it 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


PQ2446 
.  JB3 
v.l 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00011154680 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


This  book  is  due  at  the  WALTER  R.  DAVIS  LIBRARY  on 
the  last  date  stamped  under  "Date  Due."  If  not  on  hold  it 
may  be  renewed  by  bringing  it  to  the  library. 

DATE 

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I 


THE  WANDERING  JEW 


Etje  Uagofcert  Station 


THE 

WANDERING  JEW 


By 

Eugene  Sue 

In  Three  Volumes 
Volume  I. 

Illustrated 


New  York  and  Boston 

H.  M.  Caldwell  Company 
Publishers 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

Prologue 


PAGE 
11 


PART  I. 


The  Inn  oe  the  White  Falcon. 


I.  MOROK 

II.    The  Travellers  . 

III.  The  Arrival  . 

IV.  MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT  . 

y.    Rose  and  Blanche 
YI.    Mutual  Confidence  • 
VTI     The  Traveller 

VIII.    Fragments  oF  General  Journal 
IX.    The  Cages 
X.    The  Surprise 
XI.    Jovial  and  La  Mort  . 
XII.    The  Burgomaster 

XIII.  The  Investigation 

XIV.  The  Result  . 

PVRT  II  -  The  Street  oe  the  Milieu-des-Ursins. 

.  1&3 

XV.    The  Informations 


19 

29 
42 
51 
66 
78 
88 
102 
116 
126 
135 
146 
157 
170 


XVI.  Orders  • 
XVII.    Epilogue  . 


196 
213 


3  B3^ 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

PART  III.  — The  Str  anglers. 

XVIII.    The  Ajoupa    .   225 

XIX.  The  Tattooing      .       .       .              .       .  233 

XX.    The  Smuggler   239 

XXI.    M.  Joshua  Van  Dael   248 

XXII.  The  Ruins  of  Tchandi        ....  257 

XXIII.  The  Ambuscade   268 

XXIV.  The  Chateau  de  Cardoville  M.  Rodin  282 

XXV.    The  Tempest   304 

XXVI.  The  Chateau  de  Cardoville.  —  The  Ship- 
wrecked .       .       .       .       .       .       .  312 

XXVII.    Departure  for  Paris   328 

XXVIII.  La  Rue  Brise-Miche.  —  Dagobert's  Wife  343 

XXIX.  The  Sister  of  the  Bacchante  Queen     .  352 


viii 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


VOLUME  I.  —  Paet  I. 

PAGE 

«< Alas,  my  dear  sir'"  ....  Frontispiece 
"'If  not,  you  shall  give  me  satisfaction  ' "  .  .  58 
"  '  Gabriel,  tell  us  of  our  mother  ' "       .       .       .  332 

VOLUME  I.  —  Part  II. 

"Francoise  fell  on  her  knees"  ...  30 
"  He  and  Adrienne  were  alone  "...  191 
"Killjoy  slowly  arose"  309 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


PROLOGUE. 

THE  TWO  WORLDS. 

The  Arctic  Ocean  is  encircled  by  a  belt  of  eternal  ice, 
the  desert  boundaries  of  Siberia  and  of  Northern  America 
—  the  extreme  limits  of  the  two  worlds  are  separated  by 
the  narrow  Straits  of  Behring. 

The  month  of  September  is  just  at  its  close. 

The  equinox  comes  in  with  darkness  and  the  northern 
storms,  —  night  will  soon  displace  one  of  the  short  and 
dull  days  of  the  poles. 

The  sky,  of  a  dark  violet  colour,  is  feebly  lighted  by  a 
sun  which  is  without  heat,  whose  white  disc,  scarcely 
seen  above  the  horizon,  turns  pale  before  the  dazzling 
brightness  of  the  snow  which  covers  and  conceals  the 
vast  steppes. 

To  the  north,  this  desert  is  bounded  by  a  coast  bris- 
tling with  black  and  gigantic  rocks.  At  the  foot  of  their 
Titanic  piles  lies,  motionless,  the  vast  ocean,  with  its 
ice-bound  waves,  extended  chains  of  frozen  mountains, 
whose  blue-tinted  peaks  are  lost  from  view  in  a  mass  of 
snowy  vapour. 

To  the  east,  between  the  two  peaks  of  Cape  Oulikine, 
the  eastern  confine  of  Siberia,  there  is  visible  a  line  of 
darkish  green,  whence  slowly  creep  forth  numerous  white 
and  glassy  icebergs. 

11 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


It  is  Behring's  Straits. 

Beyond  it,  and  towering  above  it,  are  the  vast  granitic 
masses  of  the  Cape  de  Galles,  the  extreme  point  of  North 
America.  These  desolate  latitudes  belong  no  more  to 
the  habitable  world ;  their  piercing  and  fierce  cold  rends 
the  very  stones,  cleaves  the  trees,  and  bursts  the  ground, 
which  groans  in  producing  the  germs  of  its  icy  herbage. 

No  human  being  would  seem  endued  with  power  to 
dare  the  solitude  of  these  regions  of  frost  and  tempest  — 
of  famine  and  of  death. 

Yet,  strange  to  say,  we  trace  steps  on  the  snow  which 
covers' these  deserts,  these  last  boundaries  of  two  conti- 
nents divided  by  Behring's  Straits. 

On  the  American  side  are  seen  footprints  which,  by 
their  smallness  and  lightness,  denote  a  woman's  presence. 

She  has  moved  in  the  direction  of  the  rocks,  from 
whose  heights  are  seen,  beyond  the  strait,  the  icy  steppes 

of  Siberia.  ' 

On  the  Siberian  side  footmarks,  larger  and  deeper, 
denote  the  presence  of  a  man.  He,  too,  has  turned 
towards  the  strait.  It  would  seem  that  this  man  and 
this  woman,  thus  reaching,  from  opposite  directions,  the 
extremities  of  the  globe,  have  passed  to  see  each  other 
across  the  narrow  armlet  of  the  sea  which  separates  the 

two  worlds.  ,  ,, .  , 

Still  more  strange !  This  man  and  this  woman  have 
crossed  these  solitudes  during  a  fearful  tempest.  # 

Some  black  pines,  the  growth  of  centuries,  pointing 
their  bent  heads  in  different  directions  of  the  solitude, 
like  crosses  in  a  churchyard,  have  been  torn  up,  broken, 
and  hurled  in  various  places  by  the  storm. 

Through  the  raging  hurricane,  which  uproots  huge 
trees,  which  drives  before  it  the  mountains  of  ice  and 
dashes  them  in  masses  against  each  other  with  the  noise 
of  thunder,  — through  this  awful  storm  these  travellers 
have  made  their  way.  . 

Yes,  they  have  made  their  way  without  deviating,  even 

12 


PROLOGUE. 


for  a  pace,  from  the  straight  line  which  they  have  pur- 
sued, as  might  be  seen  from  their  equal,  regular,  and 
well-defined  foot-track. 

Who  can  they  be,  these  two  beings,  who  march  on- 
ward thus  calm  and  resolved  in  the  midst  of  the  convul- 
sions and  throes  of  nature  ? 

Chance,  will,  or  fatality  has  formed  beneath  the  iron- 
shod  shoe  of  the  man  seven  projecting  nails  which  form 
a  cross : 


And  everywhere  he  leaves  this  trace. 

To  see  these  deep  imprints  in  the  hard  and  polished 
ice,  one  could  compare  it  to  a  sheet  of  marble  stamped 
by  a  foot  of  iron. 

But  now  a  night  without  twilight  has  succeeded  to 
day. 

Dark,  dark  night ! 

By  the  bright  refraction  of  the  sun  on  the  sea,  the 
steppe  loses  its  pure  whiteness  beneath  a  heavy  cupola 
of  so  deep  a  blue  that  it  would  seem  black ;  the  pale 
stars  are  lost  in  the  depths  of  this  palpable  obscure. 

Silence  reigns ! 

But  towards  the  Straits  of  Behring  a  feeble  glimmer 
appears  in  the  horizon.  At  first  it  is  softly  brilliant, 
blue  as  the  light  which  precedes  the  rising  of  the  moon ; 
then  the  brightness  increases,  spreads,  and  assumes  a 
roseate  hue. 

In  the  other  quarters  of  the  heavens  the  darkness 
waxes  deeper,  and  the  whitened  extent  of  the  desert  is 
hardly  distinguishable  from  the  midnight  blackness  of 
the  vaulted  firmament. 

13 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


In  the  midst  of  this  obscurity  are  heard  strange,  con- 
fused sounds. 

It  would  seem  like  the  flight  of  large  night-birds  as 
they  flap  their  wings  noisily  around  and  over  the  plain. 
But  no  cry  is  heard. 

This  fearful  silence  betokens  the  approach  of  one  of 
those  imposing  phenomena  which  strike  with  terror  all 
animated  beings,  from  the  mere  savage  to  the  most  timid. 
An  aurora  borealis,  that  magnificent  spectacle  so  fre- 
quent in  the  polar  regions,  is  at  hand. 

In  the  horizon  there  appears  a  half  circle  of  dazzling 
brightness.  From  the  centre  of  this  shining  hemi- 
sphere immense  columns  of  light  jet  forth,  which,  rising 
to  measureless  heights,  illumine  heaven,  earth,  and  sea. 
These  rays,  burning  like  fire,  glide  along  the  snows  of 
the  desert,  empurpling  the  blue  tops  of  the  mountains  of 
ice,  and  tinting  with  a  deepened  red  the  tall  black  rocks 
of  the  two  continents. 

After  having  reached  the  fullness  of  magnificence,  the 
aurora  borealis  grows  gradually  pale,  and  its  clear  bright- 
ness becomes  lost  in  a  luminous  mist. 

At  this  moment,  owing  to  the  singular  effect  of  the 
mirage,  frequent  in  these  latitudes,  the  American  coast, 
although  separated  from  Siberia  by  the  interposition  of 
an  arm  of  the  sea,  appears  suddenly  so  near  that  it  would 
seem  as  though  a  bridge  might  be  thrown  from  one 
world  to  the  other. 

At  this  instant,  in  the  midst  of  that  transparent  and 
pale  blue  vapour,  which  pervaded  the  two  worlds,  two 
human  figures  were  discernable. 

On  the  Siberian  cape,  a  man  on  his  knees  extended 
his  arms  towards  America,  with  a  gesture  of  measureless 
despair. 

On  the  American  promontory,  a  young  and  lovely 
.  woman  responded  to  this  attitude  of  hopeless  wretched- 
ness by  pointing  her  taper  finger  towards  heaven. 

For  several  seconds  these  two  tall  figures  might  be 

14 


PROLOGUE. 


seen  pale  and  shadowy  in  the  parting  rays  of  the  aurora 
borealis. 

But  the  mist  thickened  gradually,  and  all  was  lost  in 
the  growing  darkness. 

Whence  came  these  two  beings  who  thus  met  in  the 
polar  glaciers  at  the  very  extremities  of  the  earth  ? 

Who  were  these  two  creatures,  brought  together  for 
one  instant  by  a  deceptive  mirage,  but  who  seemed 
separated  for  eternity  ? 


15 


Part  I. 

THE  INN  OF  THE  WHITE  FALCON 


17 


CHAPTER  I. 


MOROK. 

It  was  the  end  of  October,  1831. 

Although  it  was  still  daylight,  a  brazen  lamp,  with 
four  burners,  cast  its  rays  on  the  bare  walls  of  a  large 
garret,  whose  one  window  was  carefully  closed  ;  a  ladder, 
whose  steps  projected  beyond  the  mouth  of  a  trap-door, 
served  as  a  staircase. 

Here  and  there,  thrown  carelessly  on  the  floor,  were  iron 
chains,  collars  with  sharpened  points,  cavessons  with 
teeth  like  saws,  muzzles  studded  with  nails,  long  rods  of 
steel  with  wooden  handles.  In  one  corner  was  a  small 
portable  stove,  such  as  plumbers  use  for  melting  lead,  in 
which  coals  were  placed  over  billets  of  wood,  which  a 
spark  would  in  a  moment  kindle  into  a  blaze. 

Not  far  from  these  instruments  of  sinister  appearance, 
which  looked  like  the  tools  of  an  executioner,  were  some 
arms  of  antique  form.  A  coat  of  mail,  with  rings  so 
flexible,  so  light,  and  so  close  that  it  resembled  steel 
tissue,  was  laid  on  a  chest,  beside  which  were  cuisses 
and  armlets  of  iron,  in  good  preservation,  and  furnished 
with  leather  straps.  Several  other  weapons,  and  particu- 
larly two  long  pikes,  with  triangular  blades  with  ashen 
handles,  at  once  light  and  strong,  and  on  which  were  the 
recent  stains  of  blood,  completed  this  panoply,  which 
had  the  modern  accompaniment  of  a  brace  of  Tyrolean 
carbines  primed  and  loaded. 

In  this  arsenal  of  deadly  weapons  and  barbarous  in- 
struments was  strangely  mingled  a  collection  of  very 

19 


THE  WAXDERIXG  JEW. 


different  things,  —  small  glass  cases,  enclosing  rosaries, 
necklaces,  medals  of  Agnus  Dei,  vessels  for  holy  water, 
images  of  saints  in  frames.  There  was,  also,  a  quantity 
of  the  pamphlets  printed  at  Fribourg,  on  coarse  blue 
paper.  —  pamphlets  in  which  were  recited  many  modern 
miracles ;  in  which  was  quoted  a  letter,  signed  J .  C, 
addressed  to  a  "  faithful  disciple;"  in  which,  too,  there 
were,  for  the  years  1831  and  1832,  predictions  of  a  most 
fearful  description  against  impious  and  revolutionary 
France. 

One  of  those  paintings  on  canvas  which  showmen  place 
in  front  of  their  movable  booths  hung  from  one  of  the 
projecting  beams  of  the  attic,  doubtless  that  the  picture 
might  not  suffer  by  being  rolled  up  too  long. 

This  canvas  bore  the  following  inscription : 

"  The  veracious  and  memorable  conversion  of  Igna- 
tius Morok,  surnamed  the  Prophet,  which  happened  at 
Fribourg,  in  the  year  1828." 

This  painting,  'whose  proportions  were  larger  than 
life,  was  done  in  most  vivid  colours,  and  the  inscription, 
in  great  letters,  was  divided  into  three  compartments, 
which  displayed  three  important  features  in  the  life  of 
the  convert,  called  the  prophet. 

In  the  first  was  seen  a  man  with  a  long  beard,  of  so 
light  a  brown  as  to  be  almost  white,  with  savage  aspect, 
and  attired  in  the  skin  of  a  reindeer,  such  as  is  worn  by 
the  wild  populations  of  the  north  of  Siberia  ;  his  cap  was 
of  black  fox's  skin,  ending  with  a  raven's  skull.  His 
looks  expressed  terror,  and  bending  in  his  sledge,  which, 
drawn  by  six  wild-looking  dogs,  glided  over  the  snow, 
he  fled  from  the  pursuit  of  a  pack  of  foxes,  wolves,  mon- 
strous bears,  etc.,  who  all,  with  open  jaws,  and  armed 
with  formidable  teeth,  seemed  capable  of  devouring  a 
hundred  times  over  man,  dogs,  and  sledge. 

Beneath  this  picture  was : 

"  In  1810  Morok  was  an  idolater,  and  fled  before  wild 
beasts." 

20 


MOROK. 


In  the  second  compartment,  Morok,  attired  in  the 
white  robe  of  the  catechumen,  was  kneeling,  with  clasped 
hands,  before  a  man  dressed  in  a  long  black  gown,  with 
a  white,  falling  collar.  In  one  corner  of  the  picture  a 
tall  angel,  with  a  repulsive  look,  held  a  trumpet  in  one 
hand,  and  a  naming  sword  in  the  other,  whilst  the 
following  words  escaped  from  his  lips,  in  red  letters 
on  a  black  ground : 

"  Morok  the  idolater  fled  from  wild  beasts  ;  the  wild 
beasts  will  now  flee  from  before  Ignatius  Morok,  con- 
verted and  baptised  at  Fribourg." 

In  the  third  compartment,  the  new  convert  stood 
erect,  haughty,  disdainful,  triumphant,  beneath  his  long 
blue  robe  which  hung  in  folds;  his  head  was  proudly 
elevated,  he  had  his  left  hand  on  his  hip,  with  the  right 
hand  extended,  and  was  in  the  very  act  of  terrifying  a 
crowd  of  tigers,  hyenas,  bears,  lions,  etc.,  who  were 
drawing  in  their  claws,  hiding  their  teeth,  and  crouched 
at  his  feet,  submissive  and  frightened.  Beneath  the  latter 
compartment  there  was  inscribed  as  a  moral  conclusion : 

"  Ignatius  Morok  is  converted ;  the  wild  beasts  crouch 
at  his  feet." 

Not  far  from  these  tableaux  were  several  bundles  of 
small  books,  all  printed  at  Fribourg,  in  which  it  was 
narrated  by  what  wonderful  miracle  the  idolater  Morok 
was  converted,  had  suddenly  acquired  a  supernatural 
power,  as  was  testified  every  day  by  the  trial  to  which 
the  "tamer  of  beasts"  submitted  himself,  less  to  display 
his  courage  and  boldness  than  to  the  praise  and  glory 
of  the  Lord. 

From  the  open  trap  in  the  garret  there  arose  in  puffs 
a  wild,  acrid,  strong,  and  penetrating  smell. 

From  time  to  time  there  were  heard  the  sounds  of 
heavy  and  low  growls  ;  deep  breathings  were  followed 
by  a  dull  noise,  like  that  made  by  some  heavy  body 
which  spreads  and  stretches  itself  along  the  floor. 

21 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


There  was  a  man  alone  in  this  chamber. 
It  is  Morok,  the  tamer  of  wild  beasts,  surnamed  the 
"  Prophet." 

He  is  forty  years  of  age,  of  middling  height,  his  limbs 
shrunken,  and  his  form  singularly  attenuated.  A  long 
pelisse,  blood  red  in  colour,  and  trimmed  with  black  fur, 
completely  covers  him ;  his  complexion,  naturally  fair, 
is  bronzed  by  the  wandering  life  he  has  led  from  his 
infancy ;  his  hair,  of  that  yellow  and  dull  colour  peculiar 
to  certain  nations  of  the  polar  countries,  fell  straight 
and  lank  down  his  shoulders ;  his  nose  is  thin,  sharp, 
and  aquiline ;  whilst  around  his  prominent  cheek-bones 
there  is  a  long  beard,  apparently  white,  but  really  of  the 
lightest  brown. 

The  physiognomy  of  this  man  was  the  more  singular 
as  his  eyelids,  which  were  very  wide  and  high,  displayed 
his  fierce  eyeball  encircled  by  a  white  ring.  His  look, 
fixed  and  extraordinary,  exercised  a  wonderful  and 
actual  fascination  over  animals,  which,  however,  did  not 
prevent  the  prophet  from  also  using  in  their  subjugation 
the  terrible  arsenal  of  weapons  which  lay  around  him. 

Seated  before  a  table,  he  had  just  opened  the  secret 
drawer  of  a  small  chest  filled  with  chaplets  of  beads  and 
other  toys  used  by  the  devout.  In  this  secret  drawer, 
closed  by  a  peculiar  lock,  was  a  quantity  of  sealed 
envelopes,  addressed  only  with  a  number,  combined  with 
a  letter  of  the  alphabet.  The  prophet  took  one  of  these 
packets,  and,  putting  it  in  the  pocket  of  his  pelisse,  shut 
up  the  secret  drawer,  and  restored  the  chest  to  the  small 
table  whence  he  had  taken  it. 

The  scene  occurs  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
at  the  inn  of  the  White  Falcon,  the  sole  hostelry  of  the 
little  village  of  Mockern,  near  Leipsic,  coming  from  the 
north  towards  France.  After  a  few  moments  a  hoarse 
roar,  which  came  from  underground,  made  the  whole 
garret  tremble. 

"Judas,  be   silent!"  exclaimed  the  prophet,  m  a 


MOROK. 


menacing  tone,  and  turning  quickly  towards  the  trap. 
Another  deep  growl,  resembling  distant  thunder,  was 
then  heard. 

«  Silence,  Cain,  I  say  !  "  cried  Morok,  rising. 

A  third  roar  of  surpassing  and  inexpressible  savage- 
ness  now  resounded  through  the  place. 

"Will  you  be  quiet,  La  Mort?"  cried  the  prophet, 
hurrying  towards  the  trap,  and  addressing  some  invisible 
animal  who  bore  the  gloomy  appellation  alluded  to. 
Spite  of  the  habitual  authority  of  his  voice,  spite  of  his 
reiterated  menaces,  the  tamer  of  brutes  could  not  obtain 
silence;  on  the  contrary,  the  loud  barking  of  several 
mastiffs  was  now  added  to  the  roaring  of  the  beasts. 

Morok  seized  a  lance,  and  proceeded  to  mount  the 
ladder,  when  an  individual  was  seen  emerging  from 
the  trap.  The  stranger  had  a  sunburnt,  healthy  coun- 
tenance ;  he  was  dressed  in  a  round,  broad-brimmed, 
gray  hat,  a  short  vest,  and  long  loose  trousers  of  green 
cloth.  His  dusty  leather  gaiters  announced  his  having 
come  some  considerable  distance,  while,  suspended  over 
his  shoulders  by  a  large  strap,  he  bore  a  capacious  bag, 
such  as  is  used  for  carrying  game. 

"  The  devil  take  the  animals  !  "  cried  he,  descending 
the  ladder, "  they  seem  to  have  forgotten  me  during  the 
three  days  I  have  been  absent.  Why,  Judas  poked  out 
his  paw  through  the  bars  of  his  cage,  and  La  Mort  tore 
about  like  a  mad  thing.  I  suppose  they  did  not  know 
me  again." 

This  was  said  in  German,  to  which  Morok  replied  in 
the  same  language,  though  with  a  slightly  foreign  accent. 
"  Good  or  bad  news,  Karl  ? "  inquired  he,  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  good  !  " 

"  You  have  met  with  them,  then  ?  " 
"  I  have.    Yesterday,  two  leagues  from  Wittemberg.,, 
"  Heaven  be  praised  !  "  cried  Morok,  joining  his  hands 
with  an  expression  of  the  deepest  satisfaction. 

"  Why,  I  could  not  fail  overtaking  them ;  they  were 

23 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


constrained  to  travel  this  road  from  Russia  to  France, 
and  it  was  a  thousand  to  one  in  favour  of  coming  up 
with  them  between  Wittemberg  and  Leipsic." 
"  And  the  description  ?  " 

"  Answers  precisely :  two  young  girls  dressed  in 
mourning,  a  white  horse,  an  old  man  with  long  mous- 
tachios,  wearing  a  blue  foraging  cap  and  gray  military 
coat,  followed  by  a  Siberian  dog." 

"  And  you  have  left  them  ? " 

"About  a  league  from  hence.  In  less  than  half  an 
hour  they  will  be  here.', 

"  And  in  this  very  inn,  there  being  none  other  in  the 
village,"  rejoined  Morok,  with  a  pensive  air. 

"  And  night  fast  approaching,"  added  Karl. 

"  Did  you  enter  into  conversation  with  the  old  man  ?  " 

"  Conversation !  You  surely  are  not  thinking  when 
you  ask  such  a  question." 

"How?" 

"No;  I  did  not  converse  with  him,  for  the  best  of  all 
reasons." 

"  What  reason  can  you  assign  ?  " 

"  The  utter  impossibility." 

"  Impossible  !    And  wherefore  ? " 

"  You  shall  hear.  I  first  followed  them  as  though 
accidentally  journeying  the  same  road ;  then,  towards 
nightfall  yester  evening,  I  approached  them,  and  gave 
them  the  salutation  common  with  foot-travellers,  saying, 
<  Good  night,  and  a  pleasant  journey,  comrade ; '  the 
only  answer  I  received  was  a  look  of  defiance,  while  with 
the  end  of  his  stick  the  sullen  individual  so  addressed 
pointed  to  the  other  side  of  the  road." 

"  He  is  a  Frenchman,  and  probably  did  not  understand 
your  German." 

"  Well,  I  heard  him  speak  it  as  well  as  you  or  I  when 
he  arrived  at  the  inn,  where  I  also  took  care  to  put  up, 
for  I  heard  him  ask  for  what  he  required  for  himself 
and  party  in  perfectly  good  German." 

24 


MOROK. 


"And  could  you  not  manage  to  draw  him  into  con- 
versation during  the  evening  ? " 

"  I  tried  once,  but  was  so  roughly  repulsed  that,  for 
fear  of  incurring  any  risk,  I  would  not  venture  again.  I 
tell  you,  between  ourselves,  that  you  must  be  on  your 
guard.  This  man  has  a  look  I  don't  like  at  all,  and, 
spite  of  his  gray  moustache  and  attenuated  frame,  for 
he  is  bony  as  a  skeleton,  he  looks  so  determined  and  so 
strong,  too,  that  I  scarcely  know  whether  he  or  my  com- 
rade, Goliath,  would  have  the  best  were  they  to  engage 
in  trial  of  strength.  I  know  not  what  are  your  projects, 
but  again  I  say,  6  Take  care,  master,  take  care  ! '  " 

"  My  black  J ava  panther  was  also  strong  and  disposed 
for  mischief,"  added  Morok,  with  a  smile  at  once  sinister 
and  disdainful. 

"  La  Mort  ?  Yes,  and  he  remains  still  fierce  and 
dangerous  as  ever  to  all  but  yourself,  —  to  you  certainly 
he  is  gentle  enough." 

"  And  so  will  I  make  this  old  man,  spite  of  his  strength 
and  rude  boorishness." 

"  Nay,  nay,  master,  do  not  hope  it ;  you  are  as  clever 
and  brave  as  mortal  man  can  be ;  but,  trust  me,  not 
even  you  can  change  the  fierce  old  wolf  we  expect  here 
into  a  lamb." 

"Do  not  my  lion  Cain,  and  Judas  my  tiger,  crouch 
before  me  with  terror  and  submission  ?  " 

"  True  ;  but  then  you  have  such  means  to  compel  them 
as  —  " 

"  Because  I  have  faith  —  that  is  all  —  and  that  com- 
prises all,"  said  Morok,  imperiously  interrupting  Karl, 
and  accompanying  the  words  with  such  a  look  as  made 
the  other  cast  down  his  eyes  and  remain  mute.  "  Where- 
fore should  not  the  man  who  by  divine  power  has  been 
permitted  to  prevail  over  the  wild  beast  of  the  forest 
have  his  arm  also  strengthened  unto  victory  over  perverse 
and  impious  man  ? "  added  the  prophet,  with  a  trium- 
phant and  inspired  voice. 

25 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Whether  from  conviction  of  the  power  of  his  master, 
or  his  own  inability  to  enter  upon  a  controversy  on  so 
delicate  a  subject,  Karl  contented  himself  with  humbly 
replying,  "  You  are  wiser  than  I  am,  master,  and  what 
you  do  is  well  done  and  must  succeed." 

"  Did  you  follow  this  old  man  and  the  young  girls 
through  the  whole  journey  ?  "  inquired  the  prophet,  after 
a  momentary  silence. 

"  I  did,  but  cautiously  and  at  a  distance ;  only,  as  I 
am  well  acquainted  with  the  country,  I  sometimes  made 
a  short  cut  through  a  valley,  sometimes  over  a  moun- 
tain, still  keeping  them  in  sight ;  the  last  look  I  got  at 
them  was  from  behind  the  old  water-mill,  down  there 
where  the  tile-works  are.  As  they  were  travelling  on 
at  a  good  pace,  and  night  was  approaching,  I  hastened  on- 
wards to  prepare  for  their  arrival,  and  to  announce  to 
you  a  piece  of  good  news  I  thought  you  would  be  glad 
to  hear." 

"  Most  glad,  most  rejoiced,"  replied  Morok  ;  "  neither 
shall  your  welcome  tidings  go  unrewarded,  for,  had 
these  people  escaped  me  —  "  The  prophet  shook  with  a 
universal  tremor,  and  ceased  abruptly,  but  the  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance  and  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke 
abundantly  declared  how  important  were  the  particulars 
just  communicated  to  him. 

"  Now  I  think  of  it,"  said  Karl,  "  perhaps  that  courier, 
all  covered  with  gold  lace,  who  came  here  all  the  way 
from  St.  Petersburg  without  once  stopping  on  the  road, 
such  was  his  haste  to  find  you,  had  possibly  something 
to  do  in  the  same  important  affair  with  which  these  people 
are  mixed  up  ;  perhaps  he  —  " 

Morok  abruptly  interrupted  Karl,  by  inquiring : 

"  And  who  informed  you  the  courier  from  Petersburg 
was  in  any  way  concerned  with  the  travellers  we  look 
for?  You  are  wholly  mistaken  in  your  conjectures. 
Henceforward  be  more  wise,  and  do  not  affect  to  know 
more  than  I  tell  you." 

26 


MOROK. 

i 

"  Be  it  so,  master  ;  but  pardon  me  this  time  ;  I  do  not 
think  of  it  again.  I  must  take  off  my  game-bag  here, 
and  go  and  look  after  Goliath  to  help  me  feed  the  beasts ; 
it  must  be  about  their  supper-time,  if  not  already  past 
the  usual  hour.  Do  you  think,  master,  that  big  giant 
of  ours  would  be  likely  to  forget  to  feed  the  ani- 
mals?" 

"  Goliath  has  gone  out.  He  must  not  know  that  you 
have  returned ;  neither  would  I  have  you  seen  by  our 
expected  travellers ;  it  might  excite  much  suspicion." 

"  Where  do  you  wish  me  to  go  to  ?  " 

"  Go  down  to  the  small  outhouse  adjoining  the  stable, 
and  there  await  my  orders ;  for  I  may  possibly  have  to 
send  you  off  this  very  night  for  Leipsic." 

"  When  you  please  and  where  you  please ;  I  am  at 
your  pleasure.  I  have  still  some  provisions  remaining 
in  my  wallet ;  so  I  may  as  well  go  at  once  to  my  place, 
and  be  eating  my  supper  and  taking  rest  at  the  same 
time,  so  that  I  can  start  at  a  moment's  notice." 

"  Begone,  then  !  " 

"  Master,  remember  what  I  have  said  to  you,  and 
mistrust  that  old  fellow  with  the  gray  moustache.  I 
believe  him  to  be  a  very  devil  for  resolute  courage. 
I  am  a  pretty  good  judge,  and  it  is  my  firm  belief  he 
would  prove  an  ugly  customer.  Mistrust  him  above  all 
things,  I  entreat  you." 

"  Be  satisfied,"  said  Morok  ;  "  you  know  it  is  my  habit 
to  trust  nobody." 

"  Adieu,  then,  master  !    All  good  luck  attend  you." 

And  Karl,  slowly  ascending  the  ladder,  quitted  the 
place  by  the  same  means  he  had  entered. 

After  bestowing  a  friendly  adieu  on  his  servant,  the 
prophet  continued  slowly  to  pace  the  floor,  wrapped  in 
a  profound  meditation.  Then,  approaching  the  casket 
with  the  false  lining,  which  contained  a  quantity  of 
papers,  he  selected  a  letter  of  considerable  length,  which 
he  perused  again  and  again  with  the  most  eager  atten- 

27 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

tion,  occasionally  going  to  the  closed  shutter  which 
looked  out  on  the  courtyard  of  the  small  inn,  and 
listened  with  anxiety,  mingled  with  impatience,  for  the 
arrival  of  the  three  persons  whose  approach  had  just 
been  announced  to  him. 


28 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  TRAVELLERS. 

Whilst  the  scene  we  have  described  was  passing  at 
the  White  Falcon,  at  Mockern,  the  three  persons  whom 
Morok,  the  tamer  of  wild  beasts,  awaited  so  anxiously 
were  quietly  progressing  through  smiling  meadows, 
bounded  on  one  side  by  a  river,  whose  current  turned 
a  mill,  and  on  the  other  by  the  highroad  which  led  to 
the  village  of  Mockern,  which  was  about  a  league's 
distance  on  the  top  of  a  tolerably  high  hill. 

The  sky  was  beautifully  serene.  The  bubbling  of  the 
river,  beaten  by  the  mill-wheel,  and  sparkling  with  foam, 
alone  disturbed  the  stillness  of  this  calm  evening.  Wil- 
lows, thick  with  leaves,  bent  over  the  water,  on  which 
they  threw  their  green  and  transparent  shadows ;  whilst 
farther  on  the  river  reflected  the  blue  of  the  firmament 
and  the  warm  tints  of  the  setting  sun  so  splendidly 
that,  but  for  the  hills  which  separated  it  from  the  sky, 
the  gold  and  azure  of  the  wave  would  have  been  inter- 
mingled in  one  dazzling  sheet  with  the  gold  and  azure 
of  the  heavens.  The  tall  reeds  on  the  bank  bent  their 
velvet  heads  beneath  the  light  breeze  which  so  often 
rises  with  the  close  of  day ;  the  sun  was  slowly  sinking 
beneath  a  large  expanse  of  purple  clouds,  tipped  with 
flame.  The  lively  and  clear  air  brought  up  the  distant 
tinkling  of  the  bells  of  a  flock  of  sheep. 

Across  a  path  worn  in  the  grass  of  the  meadow,  two 
young  girls,  almost  children,  —  for  they  were  only  just 
fifteen  years  of  age,  —  were  riding  on  a  white  horse  of 
*  29 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


moderate  height,  seated  in  a  large  Spanish  saddle,  which 
easily  held  them  both,  —  for  they  were  of  small  and 
slender  figure. 

A  very  tall  man,  with  swarthy  complexion  and  long 
moustachios,  led  the  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  turned 
from  time  to  time  towards  the  youthful  maidens  with 
an  air  at  once  anxious,  respectful,  and  paternal.  He 
leaned  on  a  long  staff ;  his  shoulders,  still  robust,  bore 
a  soldier's  knapsack,  whilst  his  dusty  gaiters  and  his 
weary  steps  betokened  the  fatigue  of  a  lengthened 
journey. 

One  of  those  dogs  which  the  people  of  the  north  of 
Siberia  attach  to  their  sledges  —  a  powerful  beast,  with 
the  size,  the  make,  and  the  colour  of  a  wolf  —  followed 
closely  on  the  steps  of  this  little  caravan,  never  leaving 
for  an  instant  the  heels  of  his  master. 

Nothing  could  be  more  charming  than  the  group  of 
these  two  young  girls.  One  of  them  held  in  her  left 
hand  the  loose  bridle,  and  with  her  right  arm  encircled 
the  waist  of  her  sleeping  sister,  whose  head  reposed  on 
her  shoulder.  Each  step  of  the  horse  communicated 
to  these  two  yielding  forms  an  undulation  full  of  grace, 
as  they  balanced  their  tiny  feet  on  a  step  made  of  wood, 
which  served  them  for  a  stirrup. 

These  twin  sisters  were  called  Rose  and  Blanche, 
owing  to  a  tender  fancy  of  their  mother.  They  were 
orphans,  as  might  be  seen  from  their  dark-coloured 
garments,  which  were  somewhat  faded. 

Such  was  the  exactness  of  their  resemblance  and  the 
equality  of  their  size,  that  it  required  to  be  acquainted 
with  them  to  distinguish  one  sister  from  the  other. 
The  portrait  of  her  who  was  not  sleeping  may  serve  for 
both.  The  only  difference  that  existed  at  this  moment 
was  that  Rose  was  awake,  and  on  this  day  fulfilled  the 
functions  of  the  elder  sister,  —  functions  which  were 
made  mutual,  thanks  to  the  fancy  of  their  guide,  who, 
an  old  soldier  of  the  empire,  was  a  strict  disciplinarian, 

30 


THE  TRAVELLERS. 


and  had  thought  it  right  to  alternate  between  the  two 
orphans  subordination  and  control. 

An  artist  would  have  been  inspired  at  the  sight  of 
these  two  lovely  countenances,  with  head-dresses,  or 
rather  hoods,  of  black  velvet,  whence  escaped  a  profusion 
of  clustering  curls  of  the  brightest  chestnut  hair  flowing 
down  their  necks  and  shoulders,  and  surrounding  their 
round,  healthy,  and  velvet  cheeks.  A  carnation,  wet 
with  dew,  could  not  display  a  more  lovely  scarlet  than 
did  their  pouting  lips.  The  tender  blue  of  the  violet 
would  have  seemed  dark  beside  the  limpid  azure  of  their 
large  eyes,  in  which  were  painted  the  sweetness  of  their 
disposition  and  the  innocence  of  their  age.  A  white 
and  smooth  brow,  and  delicately  formed  nose,  and  a 
dimple  in  their  chin,  completed  faces  replete  with 
ingenuousness  and  sweetness  of  temper. 

It  was  charming  to  see  them  when,  on  the  approach  of 
a  shower  or  a  storm,  the  old  soldier  carefully  wrapped 
them  both  in  a  large  pelisse  of  reindeer's  skin,  and  pulled 
over  their  heads  the  capacious  hood  of  this  weather-proof 
garment.  Then  nothing  could  be  more  delicious  than 
these  two  fresh  and  lovely  faces  sheltered  by  this  dark- 
coloured  cloak. 

But  this  evening  was  fine  and  serene,  and  the  heavy 
mantle  was  only  wrapped  around  the  knees  of  the  two 
sisters,  whilst  the  large  hood  fell  back  on  the  crupper 
of  the  saddle. 

Rose  kept  her  right  arm  encircled  around  her  sister, 
who  still  slumbered,  gazing  on  her  with  an  air  of  inex- 
pressible tenderness,  almost  maternal ;  for  to-day  Rose 
was  the  senior,  and  an  elder  sister  is  already  almost  a 
mother. 

Not  only  did  these  orphans  idolise  each  other,  but,  by 
a  psychological  phenomenon  common  to  twins,  they  were 
usually  simultaneously  affected  ;  the  emotion  of  one  was 
instantly  reflected  in  the  countenance  of  the  other ;  the 
same  cause  made  them  both  start  or  blush,  for  truly  did 

31 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


their  young  hearts  beat  in  unison.  In  fact,  simple  joys, 
bitter  griefs,  —  all  between  them  was  mutually  felt,  and 
instantly  participated. 

In  their  infancy,  attacked  at  the  same  moment  by  a 
cruel  malady,  like  two  flowers  on  one  stem,  they  had 
together  bent,  grown  pale,  and  languished ;  but  together 
also  they  had  resumed  their  former  health  and  charming 
appearance. 

Need  we  say  that  these  mysterious  and  indissoluble 
bonds  which  united  the  twins  could  not  be  severed  with- 
out proving  a  mortal  blow  to  both  of  them  alike  ? 

Thus  those  tender  creatures,  which  we  call  the  "  love- 
birds," can  only  live  together;  they  grow  sad,  suffer, 
peak,  pine,  and  die,  when  any  cruel  hand  severs  them 
from  each  other. 

The  guardian  of  the  orphans,  a  man  of  about  fifty-five 
years  of  age,  of  a  military  appearance,  presented  the 
immortal  type  of  the  soldiers  of  the  republic  and  the 
empire,  —  that  heroic  offspring  of  the  people,  who  be- 
came in  one  campaign  the  first  soldiers  in  the  world, 
proving  to  the  world  what  the  people  can  and  will  do, 
when  those  they  choose  put  confidence,  reliance,  and  hope 
in  them. 

This  soldier,  who  was  the  protector  of  the  two  sisters, 
was  an  old  grenadier  of  the  Imperial  Horse-Guards, 
named  Dagobert.  His  face  was  serious,  imperturbable, 
and  strongly  marked;  his  gray  moustache,  long  and 
thick,  completely  hid  his  lower  lip,  and  joined  a  large 
imperial,  which  covered  nearly  the  whole  of  his  chin ; 
his  lean  cheeks,  of  the  colour  of  brick  dust,  and  tanned 
like  old  parchment,  were  carefully  shaved;  thick  eye- 
brows, still  black,  almost  covered  his  light  blue  eyes  ;  his 
gold  ear-rings  descended  to  the  edge  of  his  military 
stock ;  a  leathern  belt  confined  his  cloak,  of  thick  gray 
cloth,  about  his  waist ;  and  a  blue  cap  with  a  red  tassel, 
which  fell  on  his  left  shoulder,  covered  his  bald  head. 
Once  endued  with  the  strength  of  a  Hercules,  but 

32 


THE  TRAVELLERS. 


always  retaining  the  courage  of  a  lion,  good  and  patient, 
because  he  was  brave  and  powerful,  Dagobert,  in  spite  of 
the  harshness  of  his  features,  evinced  for  the  orphans 
an  exquisite  anxiety,  constant  consideration,  marvellous 
tenderness,  almost  maternal,  —  yes,  maternal ;  for  the 
heroism  of  affection  displays  the  heart  of  a  mother  and 
the  heart  of  a  soldier. 

Of  stoical  calmness,  and  keeping  down  every  appear- 
ance of  emotion,  the  perfect  sang-froid  of  Dagobert  was 
never  disturbed ;  thus  although  nothing  could  be  less 
sportive  than  he,  yet  he  was  at  times  really  comical  in 
consequence  of  that  air  of  unruffled  seriousness  which 
characterised  his  every  action. 

From  time  to  time,  as  he  wended  on  his  way,  Dago- 
bert turned  around  to  *give  a  pat  or  say  a  kind  word  to 
the  good  white  horse  which  bore  the  orphan  girls,  and 
whose  eyes  and  long  teeth  betrayed  his  respectable  an- 
tiquity ;  two  deep  scars,  one  on  the  flank  and  the  other 
on  the  breast,  showed  that  he  had  been  present  in  fierce 
engagements ;  and  so  it  was  not  without  an  air  of  pride 
that,  from  time  to  time,  he  shook  his  old  military  bridle, 
on  the  brass  of  whose  bit  there  was  an  eagle  in  relievo. 
His  step  was  easy,  careful,  and  firm ;  his  skin  glossy, 
his  condition  excellent,  and  the  foam,  which  abundantly 
covered  his  bit,  proved  the  health  which  horses  acquire 
by  the  constant  but  not  excessive  work  of  a  long  journey 
by  short  stages ;  for,  although  he  had  been  en  route  for 
more  than  six  months,  this  admirable  animal  stepped  on 
with  as  much  alacrity  as  he  had  started,  bearing  the  two 
orphans  and  a  tolerably  heavy  portmanteau,  fastened  to 
the  back  of  the  saddle. 

If  we  have  alluded  to  the  extreme  length  of  the  teeth  of 
the  old  horse  (and  they  are  the  unmistakable  evidences 
of  old  age),  it  was  because  he  often  showed  them,  though 
only  with  the  intention  of  being  faithful  to  his  name 
(which  was  Jovial),  and  to  play  a  little  prank,  of  which 
the  dog  was  the  victim.    The  dog,  who  was  called  Kill- 

33 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


joy  (no  doubt  as  a  contrast),  never  left  the  heels  of  his 
master,  was  constantly  within  reach  of  Jovial,  who,  now 
and  then  biting  him  gently  by  the  skin  of  his  back,  lifted 
him  up  and  carried  him  so  for  an  instant ;  the  dog,  pro- 
tected by  his  thick  hide,  and  no  doubt  long  used  to 
similar  facetiousness  from  his  companion,  submitted 
to  the  fun  with  an  air  of  stoical  indifference,  only,  when 
he  thought  the  joke  had  lasted  long  enough,  Killjoy 
growled  audibly.  Jovial,  who  understood  his  friend's  nod 
as  soon  as  his  wink,  instantly  dropped  him.  At  other 
times,  and  doubtless  by  way  of  a  change,  Jovial  lightly 
nibbled  the  soldier's  haversack;  and  his  master,  with 
his  dog,  seemed  perfectly  accustomed  to  these  little 
jokes.  , 

These  details  will  enable  us  to  learn  the  excellent 
terms  which  existed  between  the  two  twin  sisters,  the 
old  soldier,  the  horse,  and  the  dog. 

The  little  caravan  advanced,  somewhat  impatient  to 
reach  the  village  of  Mockern,  which  was  in  sight,  before 
nightfall. 

Dagobert  looked  about  him  from  time  to  time,  seem- 
ing as  though  recalling  old  remembrances  to  his  mind. 
Gradually  his  features  grew  sad,  and  when  he  was  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  windmill,  whose  noise  had  at- 
tracted his  attention,  he  stopped,  and  frequently  passed 
his  forefinger  and  thumb  over  his  long  moustachios,  the 
only  symptom  of  a  strong  and  irrepressible  emotion  that 
he  ever  displayed.  Jovial  having  stopped  suddenly  behind 
his  master,  Blanche,  who  was  awakened  by  this,  raised 
her  head.  Her  first  look  was  at  her  sister,  at  whom  she 
smiled  sweetly ;  they  both  exchanged  looks  of  surprise 
at  the  sight  of  Dagobert  motionless,  his  hands  clasped 
together  on  the  top  of  his  long  staff,  and  apparently 
overcome  by  a  powerful  and  overbearing  feeling. 

The  orphans  were  at  this  moment  at  the  foot  of  a 
small  mound,  whose  top  was  hidden  by  the  thick  foliage 
of  a  vast  oak,  planted  half  way  up  this  little  elevation. 

34 


THE  TRAVELLERS. 


Rose,  seeing  Dagobert  still  motionless  and  lost  in  thought, 
leaned  forward  in  her  saddle,  and,  placing  her  little  white 
hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  soldier,  whose  back  was 
towards  her,  said  to  him,  in  a  soft  tone : 
"  What  ails  you,  Dagobert  ?  " 

The  veteran  turned  around,  and,  to  the  great  surprise 
of  the  two  sisters,  they  saw  a  large  tear  which,  having 
marked  its  moistened  furrow  down  his  embrowned 
cheek,  lost  itself  in  his  thick  moustache. 

"  What,  weeping  ?  Yes ! "  exclaimed  Rose  and 
Blanche,  much  moved;  " tell  us,  we  beseech  you, 
what — what  'tis  that  ails  you." 

After  a  trifling  hesitation,  the  old  soldier  drew  his 
hard  hand  across  his  eyes,  and,  pointing  to  the  aged 
oak  near  which  they  were  resting,  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  emotion  : 

"  My  poor  children,  I  shall  make  you  grieve  —  but 
what  I  have  to  say  is  a  sacred  duty  I  must  fulfil. 
Listen  :  It  is  now  eighteen  years  since  the  battle  of 
Leipsic  ;  on  the  eve  of  that  bloody  scene  I  bore  your 
father  in  my  arms,  all  wounded  and  bleeding,  and  placed 
him  beneath  this  very  tree.  He  had  received  two  sabre- 
cuts  on  his  head,  and  a  musket-ball  in  his  shoulder.  It 
was  here  that  both  he  and  myself,  who  had  escaped  with 
merely  some  flesh  wounds,  were  taken  prisoners  ;  and 
by  whom,  think  ye?  By  a  renegade,  a  traitor  to  his 
country^  a  Frenchman,  an  emigre  marquis,  now  a 
colonel  in  the  Russian  service,  and  who  subsequently 
—  but  another  time,  you  shall  hear  all  that  followed.'' 
^  Then,  after  a  short  pause,  the  veteran,  pointing  with 
his  stick  to  the  village  of  Mockern,  added,  "  Yes,  yes, 
there  it  is  !  Well  do  I  recognise  those  heights,  where 
your  brave  father,  at  the  head  of  his  regiment  of 
Polonaise  guards,  cut  down  the  Russian  cuirassiers, 
and  carried  the  battery  they  were  in  charge  of.  Ah, 
my  children,"  added  he,  with  grave  simplicity,  "  I  only 
wish  you  could  have  seen  your  gallant  parent,  at  the 

35 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


head  of  his  brigade,  charge  in  the  thickest  of  the  enemy's 
ranks,  while  the  shot  flew  about  like  hailstones.  You 
will  never  see  such  a  sight,  any  more  than  I  shall  ever 
look  upon  his  equal." 

While  Dagobert  was  thus  expressing  his  regrets  and 
his  recollections,  the  two  orphans,  by  a  spontaneous 
movement,  had  lightly  slid  from  their  saddle,  and, 
holding  each  other  by  the  hand,  had  kneeled  down  at 
the  foot  of  the  old  oak,  then,  closely  pressing  to  each 
other's  side,  they  burst  into  tears,  while  the  old  soldier, 
standing  behind  them,  crossed  his  hands  on  his  long 
staff,  and  leaned  his  bald  forehead  on  them. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  he,  gently,  when,  looking  up  at 
the  end  of  a  few  minutes  passed  in  intense  meditation, 
—  it  might  be  prayer,  —  he  perceived  tears  stealing 
down  the  delicate  cheeks  of  the  still  kneeling  sisters  ; 
"  come,  dear  children,  you  must  not  fret.  Perhaps  we 
shall  meet  General  Simon  again  in  Paris,"  continued 
he.  "I  will  explain  myself  more  fully  to  you  this 
evening,  ere  we  retire  to  rest.  I  had  my  own  particular 
reasons  for  choosing  this  day  to  relate  to  you  many 
things  concerning  your  father.  I  always  wished  to 
select  this  one  particular  day  to  acquaint  you  with 
much  it  is  necessary  you  should  be  aware  of,  and  to-day 
is  the  anniversary  —  " 

"  We  were  weeping,"  said  Rose,  "  because  we  thought 
of  our  dear  mother." 

"  Whom  we  shall  never  see  again  till  we  rejoin  her  in 
heaven,"  added  Blanche. 

The  soldier  raised  the  orphans,  took  a  hand  of  each, 
and  looked  alternately  from  one  to  the  other  with  an 
expression  of  ineffable  attachment,  rendered  still  more 
striking  by  the  contrast  with  his  own  weather-beaten 
countenance.  "  You  must  not  grieve  thus,  dear  chil- 
dren," said  he.  "  True,  your  mother  was  one  of  the 
best,  most  estimable  of  women.  When  she  inhabited 
Poland,  she  was  styled  '  the  Pearl  of  Warsaw ; '  they 

36 


THE  TRAVELLERS. 


might  more  justly  have  called  her  the  Pearl  of  the  whole 
world,  for  the  universe  itself  could  not  produce  her 
equal.    No  —  no  —  " 

The  voice  of  Dagobert  died  away;  his  broad  chest 
heaved  as  with  suppressed  emotion,  and,  according  to 
his  usual  wont,  he  remained  silently  smoothing  down 
his  long  moustache  with  his  finger  and  thumb: 

"Hear  me,  my  dear  children,"  said  he,  after  having 
successfully  struggled  with  his  emotion  ;  "  were  your 
beloved  mother  still  with  you,  she  could  but  give  you 
good  counsels  —  could  she  ? " 

"  No,  Dagobert." 

"  And  what  were  her  dying  injunctions  to  you  both  ? 
To  think  constantly  of  her,  but  to  restrain  all  grief." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  those  were  nearly  her  last  words.  She 
often  told  us  that  a  merciful  God,  in  pity  to  tender 
mothers  constrained  to  leave  their  children  on  earth, 
would  permit  them  the  delightful  privilege  of  watching 
over  their  offsprings,  and  hearing  their  prayers  from 
heaven,"  said  Blanche,  innocently. 

"And  that  her  eye  would  ever  behold  us,"  added 
Rose. 

So  saying,  the  sisters,  as  though  influenced  by  one 
spontaneous  feeling,  clasped  each  other's  hand  with  an 
air  of  touching  innocence,  and,  lifting  their  clear,  blue 
eyes  towards  the  scarcely  bluer  sky,  repeated,  with  all 
the  enchanting  simplicity  of  their  age  and  disposition : 

"Mother,  dear  mother,  we  know  that  you  see  and 
hear  your  poor  children." 

"  Then  since  you  are  aware  that  your  lost  parent  sees 
and  hears  all  you  do  and  say,"  interrupted  Dagobert, 
deeply  affected,  "  beware  how  you  grieve  her  by  giving 
way  to  regrets  she  so  expressly  forbade." 

"  You  are  right,  Dagobert." 

"We  will  not  weep  any  more,"  said  the  orphans, 
drying  their  tears. 

Now  Dagobert,  far  from  being  in  the  slightest  degree 

37 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


a  bigot,  approached  more  closely  to  a  state  of  heathenism. 
In  Spain  he  had  cut  down,  with  the  utmost  indifference, 
those  monks  of  all  orders  and  complexions  who,  bearing 
a  crucifix  in  one  hand  and  a  poniard  in  the  other, 
defended,  not  liberty  (the  Inquisition  had  for  ages 
baffled  all  attempts  of  that  nature),  but  their  monstrous 
privileges.  Still  Dagobert  had  for  upwards  of  forty 
years  been  present  at  so  many  sights  of  fearful  and 
terrible  grandeur ;  he  had  so  often  stared  in  the  very 
jaws  of  death  that  the  instinct  of  "  natural  religion," 
common  to  all  simple  and  honest  minds,  had  still 
survived  in  his  soul ;  thus,  though  unable  fully  to 
understand  or  participate  in  the  tender  illusion  which 
served  to  console  the  weeping  orphans,  he  would  have 
deemed  it  an  unpardonable  crime  to  have  sought  in  any 
way  to  destroy  the  fabric  of  hope  which  supported  them. 
Seeing  them  more  composed,  he  resumed : 

That's  right,  my  children ;  dry  up  your  tears,  and 
prattle  away  as  you  did  this  morning,  and  all  yesterday, 
laughing  at  your  own  little  jokes,  and  not  even  answer- 
ing when  I  spoke  to  you,  so  entirely  were  you  occupied 
with  your  own  conversation.  Yes,  yes,  young  ladies ; 
the  old  soldier  has  found  you  out.  You  have  got  some 
nice,  clever  little  business  to  talk  over,  and  you  have  been 
quite  occupied  with  it  for  the  last  three  days.  Well,  so 
it  does  but  serve  to  amuse  you,  and  pass  the  tedious  time 
away,  I  am  as  much  pleased  with  it  as  you  are." 

The  sisters  blushed,  and  exchanged  a  smile  which  con- 
trasted greatly  with  the  tears  still  glittering  in  their 
eyes.  At  length  Rose  replied,  with  a  slightly  embarrassed 
manner  : 

"  Indeed,  and  indeed,  good  Dagobert,  we  were  not 
talking  of  anything  in  particular ;  we  just  spoke  of 
whatever  came  first  in  our  heads." 

"  Ah,  well !  I  don't  seek  to  know  any  more  than  it 
pleases  you  to  tell  me.  And  now  take  a  little  rest,  and 
then  we  will  resume  our  journey,  for  it  is  growing  late, 

38 


THE  TRAVELLERS. 


and  we  must  reach  Mockern  before  night,  that  we  may 
be  enabled  to  set  out  again  to-morrow  morning  quite 
early." 

"  We  have  still  a  very  long  way  to  go,  have  we  not  ?" 
inquired  Rose. 

"  In  order  to  reach  Paris,  you  mean  ?  Yes,  my  dear 
children  ;  we  have  at  least  a  hundred  marches  before 
us.  We  get  on,  though  maybe  slowly,  and  we  travel 
cheaply,  too,  for  our  purse  is  but  a  slender  one.  But 
then  our  wants  are  few :  just  a  small  chamber  for  you? 
with  a  palliasse  and  coverlet  for  myself,  outside  your 
door,  with  old  Killjoy  at  my  feet;  a  litter  of  fresh 
straw  for  Jovial,  —  here  is  all  our  expense,  for  as  to  food, 
both  of  you  together  scarcely  eat  more  than  a  bird ;  and 
as  to  myself,  I  learned,  when  I  was  in  Spain  and  Egypt, 
to  reserve  my  appetite  till  I  could  conveniently  indulge  it." 

"  You  forget  to  add  that,  in  order  to  economise  still 
more,  you  have  undertaken  the  sole  duty  of  providing 
everything  we  require,  without  permitting  us  to  assist 
you  in  any  way." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  good  Dagobert,  when  we  think,  too,  that 
after  first  attending  to  all  our  wants,  and  seeing  us  com- 
fortably provided  for  the  night,  you  have  actually  set 
about  washing  and  preparing  our  small  stock  of  clothes  ; 
and,  as  if  it  were  not  our  place  to  perform  such  offices 
for  ourselves  —  " 

"  You  !  "  exclaimed  the  soldier,  interrupting  Blanche, 
"What,  allow  you  to  spoil  your  delicate  little  hands 
by  dabbling  in  coarse,  soapy  water  ?  I  should  think  not, 
indeed  !  Besides,  a  soldier  is  accustomed  to  wash  his 
own  linen,  and,  I  can  assure  you,  young  ladies,  whatever 
you  may  think,  I  was  considered  the  best  laundress  in 
the  regiment ;  and  as  for  ironing,  I  think  I  am  a  pretty 
good  hand  at  that,  too,  eh,  ladies  ? " 

"  Oh,  impossible  to  be  better  ;  you  excel  in  ironing." 

"  Only  sometimes,"  said  Rose,  smilingly,  «  you  rather 
scorch  the  things." 

39 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"Yes,  yes;  that  comes  of  my  iron  being  too  hot. 
Why,  you  see,  if  I  hold  it  towards  my  cheek,  to  judge  of 
the  heat,  my  skin  is  so  thoroughly  hardened  that  I  can- 
not feel  it,"  said  Dagobert,  with  the  most  imperturbable 
gravity. 

"Don't  you  perceive  that  we  are  only  joking,  good 
Dagobert?" 

"  Well  then,  my  children,  if  you  are  satisfied  with  me 
as  a  laundress,  I  hope  you  will  continue  to  me  your  cus- 
tom. It  is,  at  least,  a  cheap  plan ;  and,  while  we  are  en 
route,  poor  folks  like  ourselves  should  be  as  saving  as 
possible,  that  our  means  may  hold  out  till  our  arrival 
in  Paris.  Our  papers,  and  the  medal  you  have  about 
you,  will  do  the  rest,  —  at  least  we  must  hope  so." 

"  The  medal  is  most  sacred  in  our  eyes.  It  was  our 
beloved  mother's  dying  gift." 

"  Then  be  most  careful  not  to  lose  it,  and  look  from 
time  to  time  that  you  still  have  it  about  you." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Blanche,  drawing  from  her  cor- 
sage a  small  bronze  medal,  which  she  wore  suspended 
around  her  neck  by  a  slender  chain  of  the  same  metal. 
This  medal  presented  on  its  two  sides  the  following 
inscriptions : 

Victime  Paris, 

de  3  Rue  St.  Frangois. 

L.C.D.J.  Dans  un  siecle  et  demi  vous 

Priez  pour  moi.  serez 

February  13,  1832. 


Paris, 


February  13,  1682.  Priez  pour  moi. 

"  What  does  all  that  mean,  Dagobert  ? "  said  Blanche, 
attentively  observing  these  mysterious  inscriptions.  "  Our 
dear  mother  did  not  know  herself." 

"  We  will  talk  more  about  it  when  we  reach  the  village 
we  are  hastening  to,"  replied  Dagobert.  "  It  is  growing 
late.   Let  us  start  on  our  way.    Be  very  careful  with  this 

40 


THE  TRAVELLERS. 


medal ;  and  now,  en  route,  we  have  still  an  hour's  march 
ere  we  reach  our  halt.  Come,  my  dear  children,  give 
one  more  look  to  the  hillock  once  moistened  with  your 
father's  blood,  and  then,  —  to  horse — to  horse!" 

The  young  orphans  bent  a  glance  of  mingled  piety  and 
regret  on  the  spot  which  had  awakened  such  feelings  of 
painful  regret  in  their  usually  imperturbable  guide,  and 
then,  with  his  aid,  resumed  their  seat  on  Jovial. 

This  venerable  and  sagacious  animal  had  not  employed 
the  leisure  afforded  him  by  indulging  in  a  little  ramble 
on  his  own  account,  but,  with  all  the  forethought  of  a 
consummate  general,  had  availed  himself  of  the  present 
opportunity  to  lay  in  a  comfortable  provision  for  the 
night  by  industriously  devouring  the  fresh  and  tender 
grass  he  found  growing  on  a  foreign  territory,  and  that, 
too,  with  so  much  apparent  enjoyment  as  almost  to 
excite  the  envy  of  Killjoy,  who,  stretched  out  on  the 
grass,  his  nose  between  his  two  fore-paws,  was  atten- 
tively watching  the  signal  of  departure,  which  once 
given,  he  rose  and  resumed  his  place  behind  his  master. 
Dagobert,  first  striking  the  end  of  his  long  staff,  con- 
ducted the  horse  by  his  bridle,  walking  with  great  pre- 
caution, from  the  increasing  marshiness  of  the  ground. 
At  the  end  of  a  few  minutes'  travelling,  he  found  himself 
obliged  to  strike  off  towards  the  left  in  order  to  regain 
the  highroad. 

Dagobert  having,  on  his  arrival  at  Mockern,  inquired 
for  the  most  humble  house  of  entertainment,  was  referred 
to  the  White  Falcon,  as  being  the  only  inn  the  village 
afforded. 

"  On,  then,  to  the  White  Falcon,"  replied  the  soldier, 
as,  following  the  directions  given,  he  directed  Jovial  to 
the  inn  in  question. 


41 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  ARRIVAL. 

Morok,  the  tamer  of  wild  beasts,  had  already  many 
times,  and  with  great  impatience,  opened  the  shutter  in 
the  garret  which  looked  out  into  the  courtyard  of  the 
White  Falcon,  anxious  to  watch  the  arrival  of  the  two 
orphans  and  the  soldier.  Not  having  yet  seen  them 
arrive,  he  began  again  to  walk  slowly  up  and  down  with 
his  arms  folded  on  his  breast,  his  head  lowered,  as 
though  reflecting  on  the  best  mode  of  executing  some 
plan  which  he  had  conceived.  His  ideas  were,  doubtless, 
employed  very  painfully,  for  his  features  seemed  even 
more  sinister  than  usual. 

In  spite  of  his  wild  appearance,  the  man  was  by  no 
means  deficient  in  intelligence  ;  the  intrepidity  of  which 
he  gave  proof  in  his  displays,  and  which,  by  a  clever 
deceit,  he  attributed  to  his  recent  state  of  grace,  a  lan- 
guage at  times  solemn  and  mysterious,  and  an  austere 
hypocrisy  had  combined  to  give  him  a  sort  of  influence 
over  the  people  whom  he  visited  in  his  peregrinations. 

Morok,  long  before  his  conversion,  had  been  fully 
familiarised  with  the  habits  of  wild  beasts.  Born  in  the 
north  of  Siberia,  he  had,  whilst  very  young,  been  one  of 
the  boldest  hunters  of  the  bear  and  reindeer.  Still  later, 
in  1810,  giving  up  that  pursuit,  he  had  become  the 
guide  of  a  Russian  engineer  charged  with  the  survey  of 
the  polar  regions,  and  had  accompanied  him  to  St. 
Petersburg.  There  Morok,  after  many  vicissitudes  of 
fortune,  was  employed  amongst  the  imperial  couriers, 

42 


THE  ARRIVAL 


those  iron  automata,  whom  the  least  caprice  of  a  despot 
sends  forth  in  a  frail  sledge  through  the  whole  vast 
extent  of  empire  from  Persia  to  the  Frozen  Ocean. 
These  persons,  who  travel  day  and  night  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning,  think  not  of  seasons,  obstacles, 
fatigues,  or  dangers;  mere  human  projectiles,  they 
must  be  broken  or  reach  their  destination.  We  may 
imagine  therefore,  the  boldness,  vigour,  and  resignation 
of  men  accustomed  to  such  an  existence. 

It  is  useless  here  to  detail  the  remarkable  series  of 
events  which  led  Morok  to  abandon  this  life  of  peril  for 
another  pursuit,  and  how  he  entered  as  a  catechumen  into 
a  religious  house  at  Fribourg,  after  which,  properly  and 
really  converted,  he  had  commenced  his  wanderings, 
accompanied  by  a  menagerie  with  whose  origin  no  one 
was  acquainted. 

Morok  was  walking  up  and  down  his  attic. 
It  was  night. 

The  three  persons  whom  he  so  impatiently  expected 
had  not  arrived. 

His  step  became  more  and  more  irresolute  and  im- 
patient. 

Suddenly  he  stopped,  leaned  his  head  in  the  direction 
of  the  window,  and  listened. 

The  man  had  a  hearing  as  acute  as  a  savage. 
"  They  come  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

And  the  balls  of  his  savage  eyes  glared  with  fiend- 
ish joy;  he  had  heard  the  footsteps  of  a  man  and 
horse. 

Going  to  the  shutter  of  his  garret,  he  carefully  half 
opened  it,  and  saw  the  two  young  girls  on  horseback, 
and  the  old  soldier  who  guided  them,  enter  the  court- 
yard of  the  inn. 

The  night  had  set  in  dark  and  cloudy ;  a  high  wind 
blew  about  the  light  of  the  lantern  by  which  the  guests 
were  welcomed  and  assisted.     The  description  which 

43 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Morok  had  received  was  too  precise  for  him  to  be 
deceived. 

Sure  of  his  prey,  he  closed  the  window. 

After  having  reflected  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  no 
doubt  that  he  might  fitly  arrange  all  his  plans,  he 
leant  over  the  opening  of  the  trap  from  which  the  top  of 
the  ladder  which  served  him  as  a  staircase  projected,  and 
called : 

"  Goliath  ! " 

"  Master  !  "  replied  a  hoarse  voice 
"Come  hither!" 

"Here  I  am,  just  come  from  the  slaughter-house. 
I've  got  the  meat  with  me." 

The  steps  of  the  ladder  groaned  again,  and  soon 
an  enormous  head  appeared  on  a  level  with  the 
floor. 

Goliath  (and  fitly  was  he  named,  for  he  was  upwards 
of  six  feet  six,  and  cast  in  the  mould  of  Hercules)  was 
hideous ;  his  scowling  eyes  were  deep  sunk  beneath  his 
low  and  projecting  brow  ;  his  matted  locks  and  beard 
were  thick  and  hard  as  horsehair,  giving  to  his  features 
a  brutal  character ;  between  his  large  jaws,  armed  with 
teeth  like  hooks,  he  held  by  one  corner  a  piece  of  raw 
beef,  weighing  ten  or  twelve  pounds,  finding  it,  no  doubt, 
more  convenient  to  carry  the  meat  in  this  way,  that  he 
might  have  his  hands  free  to  help  him  up  the  ladder, 
which  trembled  beneath  his  tread. 

At  last  this  vast  and  bulky  frame  wholly  appeared 
at  the  trap,  and  by  his  bull's  neck  and  the  vast  width  of 
his  chest  and  shoulders,  and  the  large  proportions  of  his 
arms  and  legs,  it  might  be  seen  that  this  giant  could 
fearlessly  wrestle  with  a  bear. 

He  wore  an  old  pair  of  blue  trousers  with  red  stripes 
and  laced  with  sheep-skin,  a  sort  of  coat,  or  rather  cui- 
rass, of  very  thick  leather,  torn  in  places  by  the  sharp 
nails  of  animals. 

When  he  reached  the  floor   Goliath  unclosed  his 

44 


THE  ARRIVAL. 


hooks,  opened  his  mouth,  letting  his  quarter  of  beef  fall 
on  the  ground,  licked  his  bloody  moustaches  with  a 
relish. 

This  sort  of  animal  had,  like  many  other  mounte- 
banks, begun  by  eating  raw  flesh  at  fairs  to  get  money 
from  the  gaping  crowds.  Having  thus  acquired  a  taste 
for  this  cannibal  food,  and  uniting  his  taste  with  his  in- 
terest, he  used  to  preface  the  display  of  Morok  by  eating 
some  pounds  of  raw  flesh  in  presence  of  the  astonished 
crowds. 

"  My  share  and  La  Mort's  are  below ;  here's  Cain  and 
Judas' s  allowance,"  said  Goliath,  pointing  to  the  piece 
of  beef.  "  Where's  the  hatchet  ?  I  want  to  chop  it  in 
two.  No  preference  ;  beast  or  man  ;  let  every  weasand 
have  its  fair  share,  I  say." 

Then  tucking  up  one  of  the  sleeves  of  his  garment  he 
displayed  an  arm  as  hairy  as  a  wolf's  skin,  and  furrowed 
by  veins  as  thick  as  a  man's  thumb. 

"  Now,  master,  where' s  the  chopper  ? "  he  again 
inquired,  looking  around  him. 

Instead  of  replying,  the  prophet  asked  him  several 
questions. 

"  Were  you  below  when  those  newcomers  entered  the 
inn  just  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  master  ;  I  was  just  coming  out  of  the  slaughter- 
house." 

"  Who  are  they?" 

"  Oh,  there's  two  little  wenches  on  a  white  horse  ; 
there's  an  old  chap  with  'em,  with  long  moustaches  — 
But  the  chopper,  the  animals  are  terribly  hungry,  so  am 
I,  —  so  where's  the  chopper  ? " 

"  Do  you  know  where  they  have  lodged  these  travel- 
lers?" 

"  The  landlord  took  the  little  girls  and  the  old  fellow 
to  the  bottom  of  the  courtyard." 

"  In  the  building  which  looks  on  to  the  fields  ? " 
"  Yes,  master  ;  but  the —  " 

45 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Here  a  concert  of  fierce  roars  shook  the  very  floor  of 
the  garret  and  interrupted  Goliath. 

"There  now,  d'ye  hear?"  he  exclaimed.  "Hunger 
has  made  the  animals  quite  furious.  If  I  could  roar,  I 
should  do  so,  too.  I  never  saw  Judas  and  Cain  as  they 
are  to-night;  they  jump  about  in  their  cages  ready  to 
break  'em.  As  to  La  Mort,  her  eyes  shine  brighter 
than  ever,  —  just  like  two  candles.  "  Poor  Mort ! " 

Morok  replied,  without  paying  any  regard  to  Goliath's 
remarks  : 

"  The  young  girls,  then,  are  put  in  the  building  at  the 
bottom  of  the  courtyard  ?  " 

>  "  Yes,  yes ;  but  for  love  of  the  devil,  the  chopper  t 
Since  Karl  was  sent  away  all  the  work  falls  on  one,  and 
that  makes  the  feeding-time  come  later." 

"  And  the  old  man  is  with  the  girls  ? " 

Goliath,  astonished  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  urging,  his 
master  did  not  think  of  the  animals'  supper,  regarded 
the  prophet  with  an  air  of  excessive  surprise. 

"  Answer  me,  brute  !  " 

"  If  I'm  a  brute,  I've  a  brute's  strength,"  said  Goliath, 
in  a  sulky  tone,  "  and,  brute  against  brute,  I  haven't 
always  the  worst  of  it." 

"  I  ask  you  if  the  old  man  is  with  the  young  girls  ? " 
repeated  Morok. 

"Ah,  no!"  replied  the  giant,  "the  old  chap,  after 
having  led  his  horse  to  the  stable,  asked  for  a  tub  and 
some  water,  and  there  he  is  under  the  porch,  and  by  the 
light  of  a  lantern  he  is  soaping  away,  —  he  with  gray 
moustaches,  soaping  like  a  washerwoman  !  —  just  as  if  I 
should  be  feeding  canaries  with  bird-seed,"  added  Goliath, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  with  contempt. 

"  Now  I've  answered,  master,  please  let  me  get  the 
beasts'  supper  ready?"  Then  looking  about  him,  he 
added,  "  But  where  is  the  chopper  ? " 

After  a  moment's  reflection,  the   prophet  said  to 
Goliath : 

46 


THE  ARRIVAL. 


"  You  must  not  feed  the  beasts  this  evening." 

At  first  Goliath  did  not  understand,  for  the  very  idea 
was  to  him  incomprehensible. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  master  ? "  he  inquired. 

"I  desire  that  you  will  not  feed  the  beasts  this 
evening." 

Goliath  made  no  reply,  but  opened  his  heavy  eyes  to 
an  immense  size,  clasped  his  hands  and  retreated  two 
steps. 

"Well,  you  understand  me  now,  don't  you?"  said 
Morok,  impatiently.    "  It's  plain  enough,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Not  to  eat  when  here's  the  meat,  and  supper's  three 
hours  behind  time  ?  "  cried  Goliath,  in  increasing  amaze. 

"  Obey,  and  be  silent." 

"  Do  you,  then,  wish  some  frightful  accident  to  happen 
to-night?  Hunger  will  render  these  beasts  perfectly 
furious,  and  me  likewise." 

"  So  much  the  better." 

"  Mad ! " 

"  All  the  better." 

«  How  all  the  better  ?    Why—  " 

"  Enough ! " 

"But,  by  the  devil's  backbone!  I  am  as  hungry  as 
the  very  beasts  themselves." 

"Then  eat!  Who  hinders  you?  Your  supper  is 
ready,  since  you  eat  it  raw." 

"I  never  eat  without  my  beasts,  nor  they  without 
me." 

"  Then  I  repeat,  that  if  you  give  the  animals  one  taste 
of  food  I  will  dismiss  you  instantly." 

Goliath  uttered  a  deep  growl  about  as  tuneful  and 
soft  as  that  of  a  bear,  while  he  surveyed  the  prophet 
with  an  air  at  once  stupefied  and  wrathful. 

Morok,  having  given  his  orders,  continued  to  pace 
with  hasty  strides,  though  buried  in  profound  reflection ; 
then,  addressing  Goliath,  who  still  remained  in  utter 
amazement,  he  said :  (  . 

47 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  You  recollect  the  burgomaster's  house,  where  I  went 
this  evening  to  have  my  passport  signed,  and  where  the 
wife  purchased  some  little  books  and  a  chaplet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  recollect,"  answered  the  giant,  surlily. 

"Go,  then,  and  inquire  of  the  servant  if  I  can 
depend  upon  seeing  the  burgomaster  early  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  What  for  ? " 

"I  may  possibly  have  something  of  importance  to 
communicate  to  him.  At  any  rate,  say  that  I  particu- 
larly beg  he  will  not  leave  his  house  to-morrow  until  I 
have  seen  him." 

"  Very  well,"  grumbled  out  the  giant.  "  But  my  poor 
dear  beasts,  — you  will  let  me  feed  them,  will  you  not, 
before  I  go  to  the  burgomaster  ?  Only  the  Java  panther, 
—  he  is  the  most  famished  of  all.  Just  let  me  give  La 
Mort  one  little  bit,  only  a  mouthful  or  two  between  the 
poor  starved  brutes,  and  then,  master,  Cain,  and  mvself, 
and  Judas  will  wait." 

"  It  is  that  panther  I  most  particularly  desire  you  to 
keep  without  one  morsel  of  food.  Yes,  I  tell  you,  he 
more  than  any  other." 

"By  the  horns  of  the  devil!"  exclaimed  Goliath, 
"what^ails  you  to-day?  I  can't  make  you  out  at  all. 
Pity  Karl  is  not  here ;  he  is  so  deep  and  knowing,  he 
would  soon  find  out  why  you  keep  the  poor  starving 
beasts  from  having  anything  to  eat.  I  should  be  able 
to  understand  what  reasons  you  can  possibly  have." 

"  There  is  no  need  for  your  understanding." 

"  Will  not  Karl  soon  be  back  ? " 

"  He  has  returned." 

"Where  is  he,  then?" 

"  Gone  again." 

"  What  can  be  going  on  here  ?  I  am  sure  there  is 
something.  Karl  goes  —  returns  —  sets  out  again  — 
and  —  " 

"But  our  present  business  is  with  you,  not  with 

48  v 


THE  ARRIVAL. 


Karl.  You,  who,  though  hungry  as  a  wolf,  are  as 
cunning  as  a  fox,  and,  when  you  please,  as  deep  as  Karl 
himself." 

With  these  encouraging  words  Morok  patted  the 
giant  on  the  shoulder  with  every  appearance  of  friendly 
zeal,  changing  his  former  imperative  style  into  a  tone 
and  expression  of  entire  cordiality.  Goliath  seemed  still 
more  unable  to  comprehend  what  his  master  really  meant. 
At  last  he  opened  his  great  eyes  wider  than  usual  and 
exclaimed,  "  Cunning  as  Karl !    What,  I  ?" 

"  Come,  I  will  prove  it.  There  are  ten  florins  to  be 
got  to-night,  and  you  will  be  the  cunning,  clever  fellow 
who  will  gain  them  —  I  am  sure  you  will." 

66  Ah,  yes,  as  far  as  that  goes  I  am  deep  enough," 
replied  the  giant,  smiling  with  a  stupid  and  self-satisfied 
air.  "  But  I  say,  master,  what  must  one  do  to  gain  these 
ten  florins  ?  " 

"  You  will  see." 

"  Is  it  anything  very  difficult  ?  " 

"  You  will  see.  You  will  begin  by  going  to  the  burgo- 
master. But  firct,  ere  you  depart,  light  me  this  brasier," 
said  Morok,  pointing  with  his  finger  to  a  small  stove. 

"  Yes,  master,"  replied  the  giant,  deriving  consider- 
able consolation  from  the  idea  of  gaining  ten  florins, 
though  he  was  made  to  wait  for  his  supper. 

"  Place  this  bar  of  steel  in  the  brasier  until  it  becomes 
red-hot,"  added  the  prophet. 

"  Yes,  master." 

"  Leave  it  in  the  fire  while  you  go  with  my  message 
to  the  burgomaster ;  then  return  and  await  me  here." 
"Yes,  master." 

"  You  must  also  keep  a  strong  fire  in  the  furnace." 
"  Yes,  master." 

Morok  took  a  few  steps  as  though  leaving  the  room, 
when,  changing  his  purpose,  he  said  : 

"  You  told  me  the  man  who  just  arrived  here  was 
engaged  washing  linen  under  the  porch  ? " 

49 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Yes,  master." 

"Forget  nothing;  the  bar  of  iron  in  the  fire,  the 
burgomaster,  and  to  return  and  await  my  orders  here." 

So  saying,  the  prophet  descended  the  ladder  leading 
from  the  garret  and  disappeared. 


50 


CHAPTER  IV. 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT. 

Goliath  was  not  mistaken.  Dagobert  was  soaping 
away  with  that  air  of  imperturbable  gravity  which  never 
forsook  him. 

If  we  consider  the  habits  of  a  soldier  in  a  campaign, 
we  shall  not  be  astonished  at  this  apparent  eccentricity ; 
besides,  Dagobert  only  thought  how  he  was  to  spare 
the  slender  purse  of  the  orphans,  and  save  them  from  all 
care,  all  trouble ;  and,  therefore,  each  evening  after  the 
day's  march,  he  occupied  himself  with  sundry  feminine 
occupations.  Besides,  he  was  not  in  his  apprenticeship ; 
for  often  during  his  campaigns  he  had  very  industriously 
repaired  the  damage  and  disorder  which  a  day  of  battle 
necessarily  brings  to  the  uniform  and  equipments  of  a 
soldier  who  not  only  may  receive  sword-cuts,  but  must 
also  mend  his  uniform;  since  when  the  skin  is  cut, 
the  blade  also  makes  in  the  garment  an  unseemly 
opening. 

Thus  the  evening  or  day  after  a  severe  combat,  the 
best  soldiers  (always  known  by  their  extremely  neat 
attire)  may  be  seen  drawing  from  their  haversack  or 
portmanteau  a  small  housewife  furnished  with  needles, 
thread,  scissors,  and  other  utilities,  in  order  to  go  to 
work  at  all  sorts  of  mending  and  repairs,  of  which  the ' 
most  careful  seamstress  might  be  jealous. 

We  cannot  find  a  better  time  to  explain  why  the  sur- 
name of  Dagobert  was  given  to  Francois  Baudoin  (the 

51 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


guide  to  the  two  orphans),  when  he  was  recognised  as 
one  of  the  finest  and  bravest  grenadiers  in  the  Imperial 
Horse-Guards. 

There  had  been  a  fierce  struggle  during  the  day,  with- 
out any  decisive  advantage.  In  the  evening  the  com- 
pany of  which  Frangois  formed  one  had  been  sent  on  to 
occupy  the  ruins  of  a  deserted  village ;  the  outposts  and 
sentinels  being  placed,  one-half  the  troopers  remained 
on  horseback,  whilst  the  other  took  some  rest  and 
picketed  their  horses. 

Our  friend  had  charged  amongst  the  bravest  without 
being  wounded  this  time,  for  he  only  called  a  remem- 
brancer a  deep  scratch  which  a  Kaiserlitz  had  given 
him  in  the  thigh  by  a  thrust  of  the  bayonet,  clumsily 
delivered. 

"  Scoundrel !  My  new  breeches  !  "  cried  the  grenadier, 
when  he  saw  a  wide  rent  on  the  thigh  of  his  garment, 
which  he  revenged  by  a  heavy  down  blow  of  his  sabre, 
which  cleft  the  Austrian's  skull.  If  the  grenadier  evinced 
a  stoical  indifference  on  the  subject  of  this  slight  gash 
on  his  skin,  he  was  by  no  means  so  indifferent  to  the 
disastrous  wound  which  his  full-dress  breeches  had  sus- 
tained. 

At  bivouac  the  same  evening,  therefore,  he  undertook 
to  remedy  this  accident;  and,  drawing  his  housewife 
from  his  pocket  and  choosing  his  best  thread,  best  needle, 
and  arming  his  finger  with  his  thimble,  he  began  his 
tailor-work  by  the  light  of  the  bivouac  fire,  having  first 
divested  himself  of  his  jack-boots,  and  (we  must  confess 
it)  of  his  breeches,  too ;  he  turned  the  latter  wrong  side 
outwards,  that  he  might  sew  them  on  the  inner  side  that 
the  stitches  should  not  then  be  so  apparent. 

This  partial  dishabille  was  somewhat  contrary  to  dis- 
cipline ;  but  the  captain  who  went  the  round  could 
not  help  laughing  at  the  sight  of  the  old  soldier,  who, 
gravely  seated  with  his  legs  under  him,  his  hairy  cap  on 
his  head,  his  full  uniform  on  his  back,  his  boots  by  his 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT. 


side,  and  his  breeches  on  his  knees,  was  stitching  away 
as  coolly  as  a  tailor  on  his  shop-board. 

Suddenly  there  was  an  alarm  of  musketry,  and  the 
videttes  replied  by  crying,  "  To  arms !  " 

"  To  horse  !  "  cried  the  captain,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

In  a  moment  the  troopers  were  in  the  saddle.  The 
unlucky  mender  of  holes  was  guide  of  the  first  rank, 
and,  having  no  time  to  turn  his  breeches,  alas !  he  was 
forced  to  put  them  on  wrong  side  outwards,  and,  with- 
out having  time  to  put  on  his  boots,  he  leaped  on  his 
horse. 

A  party  of  Cossacks,  profiting  by  the  shelter  of  a  wood 
close  at  hand,  had  tried  to  surprise  the  detachment. 
The  encounter  was  bloody.  Our  soldier  foamed  with 
rage,  for  he  was  very  tenacious  of  his  property,  and  the 
day  was  an  unlucky  one  for  him,  —  his  breeches  torn  and 
his  boots  lost !  And  he  therefore  cut  and  slashed  away 
with  fury,  a  splendid  moonlight  lending  its  aid.  All  the 
company  were  in  admiration  of  the  valour  of  the  grena- 
dier, who  killed  two  Cossacks  and  took  an  ofhcer  prisoner 
with  his  own  hand. 

After  this  skirmish,  in  which  the  detachment  preserved 
its  position,  the  captain  drew  up  his  men  in  line  to  com- 
pliment them  publicly  on  their  good  behaviour.  Our 
man  would  fain  have  been  without  this  oration,  but  was 
compelled  to  obey  the  order. 

We  may  imagine  the  surprise  of  the  captain  and  his 
troopers,  when  they  saw  the  tall  and  stern  figure  advance 
at  a  foot's  pace  on  his  horse  with  his  naked  feet  in  his 
stirrups,  and  pressing  his  horse  with  limbs  equally 
denuded. 

The  captain,  much  astonished,  approached  him ;  but, 
remembering  the  soldier's  occupation  at  the  instant  of 
the  cry  to  arms,  he  understood  the  whole  affair. 

"  Ah,  ah,  old  campaigner  !  "  said  he,  "  you  were  like 
King  Dagobert,  were  you?  You  put  on  your  breeches 
wrong  side  outwards  !  " 

53 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


In  spite  of  discipline,  ill-repressed  shouts  of  laughter 
hailed  this  speech  of  the  captain.  Our  man,  erect  in  his 
seat,  with  his  left  thumb  at  the  right  point  of  his  accu- 
rately adjusted  bridle,  the  handle  of  his  sabre  leaning  on 
his  right  thigh,  kept  his  immovable  gravity,  and,  making 
his  half  circle,  regained  his  rank  without  moving  his 
eyelid,  after  having  received  the  congratulations  of  his 
captain.  From  that  day  forward  Francois  Baudoin 
received  and  retained  the  surname  of  Dagobert. 

Dagobert  was  then  in  the  porch  of  the  inn,  employed 
in  washing,  to  the  great  marvel  of  several  beer-drinkers, 
who,  from  the  tap-room  in  which  they  were  boozing, 
looked  at  him  with  a  curious  eye. 

To  say  truth,  it  was  rather  an  odd  sight. 

Dagobert  had  taken  off  his  gray  greatcoat,  and  turned 
up  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt ;  with  a  vigorous  hand  he  was 
rubbing  soap  into  a  small  pocket-handkerchief  spread  on 
a  board,  one  end  of  which  inclined  in  a  butt  full  of  water  ; 
on  his  right  arm,  tattooed  with  warlike  emblems  in  red 
and  blue,  there  were  two  cicatrices  so  deep  that  a  finger 
could  be  laid  in  them. 

The  Germans,  who  were  drinking  beer  and  smoking 
their  pipes,  might  well  be  surprised  at  the  singular  em- 
ployment of  this  tall  old  man,  with  long  moustaches, 
bald  head,  and  forbidding  look,  for  the  features  of  Dago- 
bert were  harsh  and  repulsive  when  he  was  not  in  the 
company  of  the  two  young  girls. 

The  perpetual  notice  of  which  he  found  himself  the 
object  began  to  annoy  him  exceedingly,  for  he  thought  he 
was  occupied  in  the  simplest  employment  possible. 

At  this  moment  the  prophet  entered  the  porch  :  he 
looked  steadfastly  at  the  soldier  for  some  time,  then  ap- 
proaching him  he  said,  in  French,  and  in  a  somewhat 
contemptuous  tone,  "  Comrade,  it  seems  that  you 
have  not  much  confidence  in  the  washerwomen  of 
Mockern  ? " 

Dagobert,  without  ceasing  from  his  washing,  frowned, 

54 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT. 


turned  his  head  half  around,  cast  a  peculiar  look  at  the 
prophet,  but  made  him  no  answer. 

Surprised  at  his  silence,  Morok  said :  "lam  not  mis- 
taken, you  are  a  Frenchman,  my  fine  fellow ;  the  words 
tattooed  in  your  arm  prove  that,  and  your  military  figure 
testifies  that  you  are  an  old  soldier  of  the  empire ;  I 
think,  then,  that  for  a  hero  you  end  rather  with  the 
distaff." 

Dagobert  remained  still  silent,  but  he  bit  his  mous- 
tache with  his  teeth,  and  squeezed  tightly  a  bit  of  soap 
with  which  he  was  washing  the  pocket-handkerchief  ;  for 
the  countenance  and  air  of  the  tamer  of  beasts  were  dis- 
pleasing to  him,  though  he  was  unwilling  to  show  his 
prejudice.    Nothing  abashed,  the  prophet  continued  : 

"  I  am  sure,  my  fine  fellow,  that  you  are  neither  deaf 
nor  dumb,  why,  then,  do  you  not  answer  me  ? " 

Dagobert,  losing  patience,  turned  around  abruptly, 
looked  Morok  full  in  the  face,  and  said,  with  a  brutal 
tone : 

"  I  do  not  know  you  —  I  do  not  wish  to  know  you  — 
let  me  be  quiet ; "  and  he  resumed  his  occupation. 

"  But  we  may  make  acquaintance  by  drinking  a  glass 
of  Rhenish  wine  together.  We  can  talk  of  our  cam- 
paigns, for  I  have  seen  the  wars  myself,  I  can  tell  you, 
and  that,  perhaps,  may  make  you  a  little  more  civil." 

The  veins  in  Dagobert's  bald  forehead  swelled  almost 
to  bursting ;  he  saw  in  the  look  and  tone  of  his  imperti- 
nent intruder  the  desire  and  intention  to  provoke  him,  — 
still  he  restrained  himself. 

"  I  ask  you  why  you  will  not  drink  a  cup  of  wine  with 
me,  whilst  we  have  a  talk  about  France.  I  was  there 
once  for  a  long  time,  and  a  beautiful  country  it  is. 
When  I  meet  with  a  Frenchman  anywhere,  I  am  de- 
lighted —  particularly  if  he  uses  soap  as  skilfully  as  you 
do ;  if  I  kept  a  housekeeper  I  should  certainly  send  her 
to  you  to  take  a  few  lessons." 

The  sarcastic  accent  was  no  longer  disguised,  —  inso- 

55 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


lence  and  bravado  were  openly  displayed  in  the  imperti- 
nent demeanour  and  tone  of  the  prophet.  Dagobert, 
perceiving  that  with  such  an  opponent  the  quarrel  might 
become  serious,  and  desiring  under  every  provocation  to 
avoid  it,  lifted  his  tub  in  his  arms,  and  betook  himself  to 
the  other  end  of  the  porch,  hoping  by  this  expedient 
to  put  an  end  to  a  scene  which  tried  his  forbearance  to 
the  uttermost. 

The  savage  eyes  of  the  tamer  of  beasts  sparkled  with 
pleasure.  The  white  ring  which  encircled  his  eyeballs 
seemed  to  expand,  and,  thrusting  his  crooked  ringers 
twice  or  thrice  into  his  long  and  cane-coloured  beard 
with  a  gesture  of  satisfaction,  he  again  approached  the 
soldier,  accompanied  by  two  or  three  idle  gapers  from 
the  tap-room. 

In  spite  of  his  natural  phlegm,  Dagobert,  surprised 
and  annoyed  at  the  impertinent  attack  of  the  prophet, 
had  hastily  resolved  to  knock  him  down  with  the  piece 
of  wood  he  held  in  his  hand,  but  when  he  remembered 
the  orphan  girls  he  curbed  his  irritable  feeling. 

Morok,  crossing  his  arms  on  his  chest,  said  to  him,  in 
a  dry  and  insolent  tone : 

"  Most  assuredly  you  are  not  a  very  polite  person,  man 
of  soap  !  "  Then  turning  to  the  grinning  bystanders,  he 
continued  in  German,  "  I  was  saying  to  this  Frenchman 
with  long  moustachios  that  he  is  by  no  means  polite,  we 
shall  see  what  his  reply  will  be ;  it  may  be  requisite  to 
give  him  a  lesson,  —  though  Heaven  preserve  me  from 
being  quarrelsome,"  he  added,  with  affected  compunc- 
tion ;  "  but  the  Lord  has  enlightened  me,  I  am  his 
work,  and  out  of  respect  to  him  I  must  make  his  work 
respected." 

This  mystic  and  daring  peroration  was  very  much  to 
the  taste  of  the  listeners.  The  prophet's  reputation  had 
reached  as  far  as  Mockern,  and  as  they  were  anxiously 
awaiting  his  exhibition  on  the  morrow,  they  relished  this 
prelude  the  more  strongly. 

56 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT. 


When  Dagobert  heard  this  provocation  on  the  part 
of  his  adversary,  he  could  not  refrain  from  saying,  in 
German,  "  I  understand  German ;  so  go  on  in  German, 
and  they  will  know  what  you  say." 

Other  spectators  now  arrived,  and  so  great  interest 
was  excited  that  they  formed  a  circle  around  the  two 
principal  actors  in  this  scene. 

The  prophet  replied  in  German  : 

"  I  said  you  were  not  polite,  and  I  can  say  that  you 
are  grossly  impertinent.    What  is  your  reply  to  this  ? " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Dagobert,  as  he  began  busily  to  soap 
another  article  of  linen. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Morok,  "  that's  concise  enough  ; 
but  I'll  be  as  brief  as  himself,  and  I  tell  you  that  when 
an  honest  man  foolishly  offers  a  glass  of  wine  to  a  stran- 
ger, that  that  stranger  has  no  right  to  make  an  insolent 
retort,  and  deserves  that  he  should  be  taught  a  sharp 
lesson  in  the  art  of  good  manners." 

Heavy  drops  of  perspiration  streamed  down  the  fore- 
head and  cheeks  of  Dagobert,  his  massy  imperial  moved 
up  and  down  with  nervous  excitement ;  but  he  still 
commanded  his  temper,  and,  taking  the  two  ends  of  the 
handkerchief  which  he  had  rinsed  in  the  water,  he  shook 
it,  then  twisted  it  to  squeeze  out  the  water,  and  began 
to  hum  the  old  campaigning  song : 

"  De  Tirlemont,  tandion  du  diable, 
Nous  partirons  demain  matin, 
Le  sabre  en  main 
Disant  adieu  a,"  etc. 

(We  suppress  the  end  of  the  couplet,  which  is  rather 
too  free  for  any  place  beyond  the  barrack-room.) 

The  silence  which  Dagobert  prescribed  to  himself  had 
half  choked  him,  but  this  ditty  was  a  kind  of  safety- 
valve  for  him.  Morok,  turning  towards  the  spectators, 
said  to  them,  with  an  air  of  hypocritical  restraint : 

"  We  know  very  well  that  the  soldiers  of  Napoleon 

57 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


were  heathens,  who  stabled  their  horses  in  churches,  who 
offended  the  Lord  a  hundred  times  a  day,  and  who  were 
justly  rewarded  by  being  drowned  and  destroyed  in  the 
Beresina,  like  the  Pharaohs  of  old  ;  but  we  did  not  know 
that  the  Lord,  to  punish  these  miscreants,  had  deprived 
them  of  their  only  quality,  their  courage!  Here  is  a 
man  who,  in  me,  has  insulted  a  creature  touched  by  the 
grace  of  God,  and  he  pretends  that  he  does  not  under- 
stand that  I  require  an  apology  at  his  hands  ;  or  if  not  " 

"If  not,"  said  Dagobert,  without  looking  at  the 
prophet. 

"  If  not,  you  shall  give  me  satisfaction.  I  told  you 
that  I,  too,  have  been  in  the  wars.  We  can  find  some- 
where a  couple  of  sabres,  and  to-morrow  morning,  at 
daybreak,  behind  some  wall,  we  may  discover  the  colour 
of  each  other's  blood,  —  that  is,  if  you  have  any  in  your 
veins." 

This  open  declaration  of  hostility  began  somewhat  to 
frighten  the  spectators,  who  had  not  expected  so  tragic 
a  finale. 

"You  fight?  What  an  idea!"  exclaimed  one; 
"Why,  you'll  both  get  locked  up,  — the  laws  against 
duelling  are  very  severe." 

"  Especially  with  persons  of  low  rank  or  strangers," 
added  another.  "  If  you  are  taken,  weapon  in  hand,  the 
burgomaster  will  put  you  in  the  cage,  and  you  will  have 
two  or  three  months'  imprisonment  before  sentence  is 
passed  on  you." 

"  Are  you,  then,  the  persons  to  go  and  inform  against 
us  ?  "  asked  Morok. 

"No,  certainly  not,"  said  the  citizens;  "do  as  you 
wish,  —  we  only  advise  you  as  friends;  but  do  as  you 
like,  it's  no  affair  of  ours." 

"  What  do  I  care  for  a  prison  ? "  exclaimed  the  prophet. 
"Only  let  me  find  a  couple  of  swords,  and  to-morrow 
morning  shall  show  whether  or  not  I  care  for  what  the 
burgomaster  may  say  or  do." 

58 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT. 


"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  two  swords  ? "  coolly 
inquired  Dagobert  of  the  prophet. 

"  When  you  have  one  in  your  hand,  and  I  have  the 
other  in  mine,  you  shall  see.  The  Lord  requires  that 
his  honour  be  regarded  !  " 

Dagobert  shrugged  his  shoulders,  put  his  linen  all 
together  in  a  handkerchief,  dried  his  piece  of  soap, 
packed  it  carefully  in  a  little  oil-skin  bag,  then  whis- 
tling between  his  teeth  his  favourite  rondeau  of  Tirle- 
mont,  he  made  a  step  forward. 

The  prophet  frowned,  —  he  began  to  fear  that  his 
provocation  was  ineffectual.  He  advanced  a  couple  of 
paces  towards  Dagobert,  stood  direct  before  him  as 
though  to  bar  his  progress,  then  folding  his  arms  across 
his  chest  and  measuring  him,  with  an  insolent  air,  from 
head  to  foot,  he  said : 

"  So  then  an  old  soldier  of  that  brigand,  Napoleon,  is 
only  fit  to  be  a  washerwoman,  —  he  refuses  to  fight." 

"  Yes,  he  refuses  to  fight,"  replied  Dagobert,  with  a 
firm  voice,  but  turning  deathly  pale.  The  old  soldier 
had  never  yet  given  to  the  orphans  confided  to  his 
guardianship  so  striking  a  proof  of  his  tenderness  and 
devotion.  For  a  man  of  his  temper  to  allow  himself  to 
be  insulted  with  impunity,  and  to  refuse  to  fight,  was 
an  incalculable  sacrifice. 

"  Then  you  are  a  coward  —  you  are  afraid  —  and  you 
confess  it  —  " 

At  this  word,  Dagobert  made,  if  we  may  use  the 
expression,  a  mental  somersault,  as  though,  when  at 
the  instant  he  was  about  to  spring  at  the  prophet,  a 
sudden  thought  had  restrained  him. 

He  thought  at  the  moment  of  the  two  young  girls, 
and  the  fearful  consequences  which  a  duel,  whether 
fortunate  or  unfortunate  for  him  individually,  must 
entail  on  their  journey. 

But  this  moment  of  anger  in  the  soldier,  rapid  as  it 
was,  was  so  significant  —  the  expression  of  his  rude 

59 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


features,  pale  and  bathed  in  sweat,  was  so  terrible  — 
that  the  prophet  and  the  lookers-on  receded  a  step. 

A  perfect  silence  reigned  for  several  seconds,  and 
then,  by  a  sudden  revulsion,  a  general  feeling  arose  in 
Dagobert's  favour.  One  of  the  bystanders  said  to  those 
near  him  : 

"  I  don't  believe  the  man  is  a  coward  !  " 
"  No  more  don't  I !  " 

» It  sometimes  requires  more  courage  to  refuse  a 
challenge  than  to  fight  a  duel." 

"  And  the  prophet  was  wrong  to  try  and  provoke 
him  ;  he's  a  stranger." 

"  And  if  a  stranger  fights  and  gets  apprehended,  he 
would  have  a  long  imprisonment." 

"  And  then,"  added  another,  "  he's  travelling  with 
two  young  girls,  and  that's  a  reason  why  he  should  not 
fight.  If  he  were  killed,  or  taken  prisoner,  what  would 
become  of  those  poor  children,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 

Dagobert  turned  to  the  individual  who  uttered  these 
words,  and  saw  a  stout  man  with  a  free,  good-tempered 
countenance.  The  soldier  held  out  his  hand  to  him,  and 
said,  in  a  tone  of  emotion : 

"  Thank  you,  sir  !  " 

The  German  cordially  shook  the  hand  which  Dagobert 
extended  to  him. 

"Sir,"  he  added,  still  retaining  his  grasp  of  the 
veteran's  hand,  "do  this:  Accept  of  a  bowl  of  punch 
with  us,  and  we  will  compel  this  devil  of  a  prophet  to 
confess  that  he  has  been  too  hasty,  and  to  pledge  you 
in  a  bumper." 

Up  to  this  time  the  tamer  of  beasts,  giving  up  in 
despair  his  idea  of  provoking  the  soldier  to  fight,  had 
scowled  sulkily  on  those  who  had  forsaken  him,  but  now 
his  features  gradually  cleared  up ;  and  thinking  it  most 
serviceable  to  his  projects  to  conceal  his  discomfiture, 
he  made  a  step  towards  the  soldier,  and  said  to  him 
with  an  air  of  composure  and  easy  assurance : 

60 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT. 


"  Well,  be  it  so.  I  accede  to  the  proposition  of  these 
gentlemen,  and  confess  I  was  wrong.  Your  behaviour 
wounded  me,  and  I  was  not  master  of  myself.  I  repeat 
I  was  wrong,"  he  added,  with  ill-disguised  rage ;  "  the 
Lord  commands  humility,  and  I  request  your  pardon." 

This  testimony  of  moderation  and  repentance  was 
greatly  applauded,  and  highly  appreciated  by  the  spec- 
tators. 

"  He  asks  your  pardon,  and  now  you  can't  bear  him 
any  spite,  mon  brave"  said  one  of  the  party,  addressing 
Dagobert.  "  Come  and  take  a  glass  with  him.  We 
offer  you  the  bowl  with  good-will,  and  you  should  accept 
it  as  heartily." 

"  Yes,  accept  it,  we  beg  of  you,  in  the  name  of  your 
pretty  little  maidens,"  said  the  stout  man,  wishing 
Dagobert  to  comply.  He,  much  moved  by  the  candid 
advances  of  the  Germans,  replied,  "  Thanks,  gentlemen ; 
you  are  very  kind.  But  when  a  man  accepts  a  cup,  he 
must  offer  one  in  his  turn." 

"  To  be  sure,  and  we'll  do  so  with  pleasure,  every  one 
in  his  turn  ;  that's  the  right  thing.     We'll  pay  the  first , 
bowl,  and  you  the  second." 

"  Poverty  is  not  vice,"  replied  Dagobert ;  "  and  so  I 
tell  you  fairly  that  I  have  not  the  means  of  offering  you 
a  bowl  in  my  turn.  We  have  yet  a  long  journey  before 
us,  and  I  must  not  lay  out  an  unnecessary  farthing." 

The  soldier  said  these  words  with  so  much  simple  but 
firm  dignity,  that  the  Germans  did  not  venture  to  press 
their  offer,  understanding  that  a  man  of  Dagobert's 
character  could  not  accept  without  humiliation. 

"  Ah,  well,  I'm  sorry,"  said  the  stout  man.  "  I 
should  have  liked  to  have  had  a  glass  with  you  very 
much ;  but,  as  it  is,  good  night,  my  brave  boy  —  good 
night.  It  is  growing  late,  and  the  landlord  of  the  White 
Falcon  will  be  for  turning  us  out." 

"  Good  night,  gentlemen,"  said  Dagobert,  going  towards 
the  stables  to  give  his  horse  his  second  feed. 

61 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Morok  approached  him,  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  extreme 
humility : 

"  I  own  how  much  I  was  in  the  wrong,  and  I  have 
asked  your  pardon.  You  have  not  replied.  Are  you 
still  incensed  against  me  ?  " 

"  If  we  should  meet  again  some  day,  when  my  children 
do  not  need  my  protection,"  said  the  old  soldier,  in  a 
deep  and  suppressed  voice,  "  I  will  have  two  words  with 
you,  and  they  shall  not  be  long  ones." 

So  saying,  he  turned  his  back  abruptly  on  the  prophet, 
who  slowly  left  the  courtyard. 

The  inn  of  the  White  Falcon  formed  a  parallelogram. 
At  one  extremity  was  the  main  building,  at  the  other 
some  smaller  buildings,  containing  several  apartments 
let  out  at  low  prices  to  poor  wayfarers.  A  vaulted 
passage  was  formed  in  the  centre  of  these  latter  which 
looked  on  to  the  country.  On  each  side  of  the  courtyard 
were  stables  and  sheds,  over  which  were  granaries  and 
lofts. 

Dagobert,  going  into  one  of  the  stables,  took  from  a 
bin  a  measure  of  oats  ready  for  his  horse,  and,  pouring 
it  into  a  sieve,  shook  it  as  he  approached  Jovial. 

To  his  extreme  astonishment,  his  old  travelling  com- 
panion did  not  reply  by  his  accustomed  joyful  whining 
at  hearing  the  oats  in  the  sieve.  He  was  amazed,  and 
spake  to  Jovial  in  his  usual  amicable  tone ;  but  the  good 
beast,  instead  of  turning  to  his  master  with  his  intelli- 
gent eye,  and  pawing,  as  usual,  with  his  feet,  remained 
motionless.  Still  more  astonished,  the  soldier  went  up 
to  him. 

By  the  dim  light  of  a  stable  lantern  he  saw  the  poor 
animal  in  a  state  which  betokened  extreme  fear,  —  his 
limbs  crouched,  his  head  in  the  air,  his  ears  bent  back, 
his  nostrils  expanded,  whilst  his  halter  was  stretched 
out  to  its  full  length,  as  though  he  sought  to  break  it  in 
order  to  escape  from  the  partition  to  which  his  rack 
and  manger  were  affixed;  a  cold  and  excessive  sweat 

62 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT. 


soaked  through  his  light  blue  body-cloth,  and  his  coat, 
instead  of  being  silky  and  mottled  in  the  dim  light  of 
the  stable,  stood  on  end  stiff  and  bristly,  whilst  every 
now  and  then  his  whole  frame  was  shaken  as  if  in 
convulsions. 

"  Soh,  soh,  old  Jovial !  "  said  the  trooper,  putting  the 
sieve  on  the  ground  to  pat  his  horse  ;  "  what,  afraid,  like 
your  master,"  he  added,  with  a  bitter  tone,  suggested 
by  his  recent  insult ;  "  what,  frightened,  boy,  frightened, 
—  you,  who  are  not  usually  a  coward  !  " 

Despite  the  caresses  and  voice  of  his  master,  the  steed 
continued  to  evince  signs  of  fright.  However,  his 
halter  became  less  extended,  and  he  smelled  Dagobert's 
hand  with  hesitation,  snorting  violently,  as  if  doubting 
his  master's  identity. 

"  What,  don't  you  know  me  ?  "  exclaimed  Dagobert ; 
"  then  something  very  wonderful  must  have  happened." 

And  the  old  soldier  gazed  about  him  with  much 
uneasiness. 

The  stable  was  spacious,  dark,  and  but  dimly  lighted 
by  a  lantern  hanging  from  the  ceiling,  richly  festooned 
with  accumulated  and  undisturbed  cobwebs.  At  the 
other  end,  and  separated  from  Jovial  by  some  places 
marked  with  bars,  were  the  three  powerful  black  horses 
of  the  trainer  of  beasts,  who  were  as  quiet  as  Jovial  was 
trembling  and  affrighted. 

Dagobert,  struck  by  the  singular  contrast  (soon  to  be 
explained),  again  patted  and  encouraged  his  horse,  who, 
gradually  reassured  by  the  presence  of  his  master,  licked 
his  hands,  rubbed  his  head  against  him,  and  evinced  a 
thousand  other  tokens  of  attachment. 

"  Come,  come,  old  man  —  that's  right  —  that's  •  the 
way  I  like  to  see  you,  my  loving  Jovial,"  said  Dagobert, 
taking  up  the  sieve  and  pouring  its  contents  into  the 
manger.  "  Come,  boy,  eat  —  eat,  for  we  have  a  long 
march  before  us  to-morrow.  I  mustn't  have  these 
foolish  fancies  and  frights.    If  Killjoy  were  here,  he 

63 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


would  give  you  courage ;  but  he  is  up  in  the  room  with 
the  children ;  he  is  their  guardian  in  my  absence. 
Come,  eat,  and  don't  keep  looking  at  me  so." 

But  the  good  steed,  after  having  moved  his  oats  about 
with  his  lips,  as  though  to  obey  his  master,  could  not 
eat  them,  but  began  to  nibble  the  sleeve  of  Dagobert's 
greatcoat. 

"Jovial,  my  poor  fellow,  there's  something  wrong 
with  you,  who  generally  pick  up  your  feed  with  so  much 
good-will  and  appetite !  What,  leave  your  oats,  and  for 
the  first  time  that  that  has  occurred  since  we  started !  " 

The  veteran  said  this  with  an  air  of  real  anxiety,  for 
the  result  of  his  journey  depended  very  much  on  the 
vigour  and  health  of  his  horse. 

A  horrid  roar,  so  near  that  it  seemed  to  issue  from 
the  very  stable,  so  completely  frightened  Jovial  that, 
with  one  snap,  he  broke  the  halter,  leaped  over  the  bar 
of  his  stall,  and,  reaching  the  open  door,  bounded  out 
into  the  courtyard. 

Dagobert  himself  could  not  repress  a  start  at  this 
sudden,  deep,  and  savage  howl,  which  accounted  for  the 
terror  of  his  horse. 

The  next  stable,  occupied  by  the  perambulating 
menagerie  of  the  trainer  of  beasts,  was  only  separated 
by  the  partition  wall  to  which  the  manger  was  attached. 
The  prophet's  three  horses,  used  to  these  roarings, 
remained  perfectly  tranquil. 

"  Ah,  ah,"  said  the  soldier,  reassured,  "  now  I  find 
what  it  is.  No  doubt  Jovial  had  before  heard  these 
roars.  He  smelt  the  animals  of  that  impudent  vagabond, 
and  they  were  quite  enough  to  frighten  him,"  added  the 
veteran,  carefully  gathering  up  the  oats  from  the  manger. 
"  Once  in  another  stable,  —  and  there  ought  to  be  some 
empty  ones,  —  he  will  not  leave  his  feed,  and  we  will 
make  an  early  move  of  it  in  the  morning." 

The  affrighted  charger  having  run  and  jumped  about 
the  courtyard,  came  up  to  his  master  at  his  call,  and 

64 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT. 


Dagobert,  taking  him  by  his  head-stall,  led  him  to 
another  single-stall  stable,  which  a  hostler  pointed  out 
to  him,  and  there  Jovial  was  comfortably  installed. 

Once  removed  from  his  vicinity  to  the  wild  beasts, 
the  old  horse  became  tranquillised,  and  even  frisked  a 
little  at  the  expense  of  Dagobert's  greatcoat,  who, 
thanks  to  these  small  jokes,  had  a  job  in  the  tailoring 
line  cut  out  for  him  that  very  night  if  he  so  pleased ; 
but  he  was  only  engaged  in  admiring  the  alacrity  with 
which  Jovial  ate  his  provender. 

Completely  recovered,  the  soldier  shut  the  door  of 
the  stable,  and  hastened  to  his  supper,  that  he  might 
rejoin  the  orphans,  reproaching  himself  with  having  left 
them  so  long  alone. 


65 


CHAPTER  V. 


ROSE  AND  BLANCHE. 

The  orphans  occupied,  in  the  most  distant  part  of  the 
inn,  a  small,  dilapidated  chamber,  whose  only  window 
looked  out  on  the  country ;  a  bed  without  curtains,  a 
table,  and  two  chairs  completed  the  more  than  scanty 
furnishing  of  the  humble  apartment,  lighted  only  by  a 
small  lamp  ;  on  the  table  near  the  casement  was  deposited 
the  wallet  of  Dagobert.  The  huge  Siberian  dog,  Killjoy, 
stretched  at  the  entrance  door,  had  already  uttered  sev- 
eral deep,  angry  growls,  without  any  further  manifestation 
of  impending  danger. 

The  sisters,  partially  reclining  on  their  lowly  pallet, 
were  clad  in  long  white  wrapping  gowns,  fastened  at 
the  neck  and  wrists.  They  wore  no  covering  on  their 
heads,  save  a  broad  fillet,  which  confined  their  rich 
chestnut  hair  and  prevented  the  long  flowing  tresses 
from  disturbing  their  slumbers.  Their  snowy  vest- 
ments, with  the  white  circlet  around  their  brows,  gave  to 
the  young  and  innocent  countenances  of  the  sisters  a 
still  greater  charm. 

Spite  of  their  early  troubles,  the  orphans  prattled 
merrily,  with  all  the  light-heartedness  of  their  age ;  for 
though  the  loss  of  their  beloved  mother  occasionally  sent 
a  gloom  over  their  countenances,  it  was  still  a  pensive 
sorrow  they  rather  sought  than  avoided  ;  to  their  tender, 
loving  imaginations  their  adored  parent  was  not  dead 
(for  death  was  beyond  their  comprehension),  but  merely 
absent  for  a  time. 

66 


KOSE  AND  BLANCHE. 


Almost  as  ignorant  as  Dagobert  of  religious  forms 
(for,  in  the  wilderness  in  which  they  had  dwelt,  there 
was  neither  priest  nor  sacred  edifice),  they  yet  firmly 
believed,  as  they  had  been  told,  that  a  merciful,  gracious 
God,  beholding  from  afar  the  heart-stricken  grief  of  a 
mother  compelled  to  leave  her  dear  children  on  earth, 
would  from  on  high  permit  her  to  behold  them,  and  to 
hear  their  voices,  and  still  further,  bestow  on  her  the 
blessed  privilege  of  for  ever  watching,  like  a  guardian 
angel,  over  her  cherished  ones. 

Thanks  to  this  simple  yet  pure  illusion,  the  orphans, 
persuaded  that  their  mother  incessantly  beheld  them, 
would  have  died  rather  than,  by  word  or  deed,  have 
pained  their  idolised  parent,  or  induced  an  indulgent 
Deity  to  withdraw  from  them  her  watchful  care. 

And  this  train  of  reasoning  formed  the  whole  stock  of 
theological  knowledge  possessed  by  Rose  and  Blanche, 
but  which  was  in  itself  abundantly  sufficient  to  satisfy 
their  innocent  and  affectionate  souls. 

Such  as  we  have  described  them,  the  two  sisters  were 
discoursing  together  while  awaiting  the  return  of  Dago- 
bert. 

Their  conversation  was  deeply  interesting,  for  it  re- 
ferred to  a  matter  of  deep  interest.  Moreover,  a  secret 
so  weighty  and  important  as  to  quicken  from  time  to 
time  the  pulsations  of  their  young  hearts,  cause  their 
tender  bosoms  to  heave  with  a  hasty  throb,  and  send  a 
deeper  colour  to  their  delicate  cheeks,  while  a  thoughtful 
and  uneasy  languor  weighed  down  the  lids  of  their  clear 
blue  eyes. 

Rose,  on  this  occasion,  occupied  the  outer  side  of  the 
bed.  Her  fair  rounded  arms  were  placed  beneath  her 
head,  which  was  half  turned  towards  her  sister,  who, 
leaning  on  her  elbow  and  smiling  sweetly,  inquired  : 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  come  again  to-night  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes !  for  yesterday,  you  know,  he  promised  ft." 

"  And  he  is  too  good  to  forget  his  promise." 

67 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  And  so  handsome,  too,  with  those  beautiful  light 
curls  !  " 

"  And  so  sweet  a  name,  just  suited  to  himself  !  Is  it 
not,  dear  sister  ?  " 

"  Oh,  quite  !  Did  you  ever  see  so  charming  a  smile  ? 
With  how  kind  and  tender  a  voice  he  spoke  when,  tak- 
ing a  hand  of  each,  he  said,  4  My  children,  bless  God  for 
having  bestowed  on  you  one  mind  !  That  which  others 
seek  elsewhere,  you  will  always  find  within  yourselves ; 
because,'  added  he,  '  you  are  one  heart  in  two  bodies.'  " 

"Dear  sister,  how  glad  I  am  we  can  so  perfectly 
recollect  every  little  word  he  said  !  " 

"  We  could  not  fail  doing  so,  when  we  each  listened 
so  eagerly  and  attentively  ;  and  when  you,  dear  sister, 
were  listening  to  his  discourse,  it  seemed  to  me  as  though 
my  ears,  too,  drank  in  his  charming  words,"  said  Rose, 
smiling,  and  affectionately  kissing  the  forehead  of 
Blanche ;  "  and  when  he  spoke,  your  eyes,  or  rather  our 
eyes,  were  wide,  wide  open,  and  our  lips  moved,  as  though 
repeating  each  word  after  him.  So  how  could  we  possi- 
bly lose  one  dear  word  ?  " 

u  Words,  too,  so  noble  —  so  generous  —  so  beautifully 
spoken  !  " 

"  And  did  you  not  find,  deadest  sister,  that  while  he 
spoke  our  hearts  expanded  within  our  bosoms  as  though 
scarcely  large  enough  to  contain  all  the  great  and  virtu- 
ous thoughts  that  filled  them,  as  though  intended  to 
remain  there  for  our  future  meditation  and  delightful 
converse  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes  !  Not  one  precious  counsel  will  be  forgotten ; 
no  word  but  will  be  safely  harboured  in  our  hearts,  like 
young  birds  in  the  soft  nest  of  their  mother." 

"  How  delightful  it  is,  Rose,  that  he  should  equally 
love  us  both  !  " 

"  Nay,  my  Blanche,  it  could  not  be  otherwise,  there 
being  but  one  heart  —  one  love  —  between  us.  How 
could  he  love  Rose  without  her  Blanche  ? " 

68 


ROSE  AND  BLANCHE. 


"  Or  what  would  have  become  of  the  poor  rejected 
one?" 

"  And  besides,  imagine  the  impossibility  of  choosing 
between  us  !  " 

"  We  are  so  exactly  alike  !  " 

"  So  to  spare  himself  so  difficult  a  task,"  said  Rose, 
smiling,  "  he  has  very  wisely  selected  us  both  !  " 

"And  most  wisely,  too;  for  now  he  has  but  one  to 
love,  while  he  has  two  to  love  him ! " 

"  Let  us  hope  he  will  not  depart  from  us  ere  we  reach 
Paris !  " 

"  Paris  !    Surely  we  shall  see  him  there,  also  ?  " 

"  No  doubt ;  for  'tis  there  his  presence  will  be  doubly 
dear.  And  with  him  and  Dagobert  —  oh,  my  sister,  how 
happy  shall  we  be  in  that  fine  city !  " 

"  We  shall,  indeed !  I  picture  Paris  to  myself  as  all 
built  with  gold  and  glittering  with  precious  stones  ! " 

"  Then  since  it  is  so  beautiful  a  place,  all  who  dwell 
there  must  needs  be  happy  ? " 

"  And  then,  sister,  I  almost  fear  that  two  orphans  such 
as  we  are  will  not  be  permitted  to  enter  it.  How  shall 
we  venture  to  look  all  these  great  and  rich  people  in  the 
face  ?  " 

"  But,  my  sister,  don't  you  think  that  since  every  one 
in  Paris  is  so  happy,  they  must  also  be  as  good  and 
kind  ? " 

"Oh,,  yes!  And  they  will  love  us  as  we  shall  love 
them !  " 

"  And  besides,  we  shall  have  our  dear  friend  with  the 
light  hair  and  blue  eyes  to  advise  and  encourage  us  ! " 

"  He  has  not  yet  mentioned  Paris  to  us  !  " 

"  Probably  it  did  not  occur  to  him.  However,  we'll 
speak  of  it  to  him  to-night." 

"If  he  seems  inclined  to  converse  —  not  else  ;  for 
often,  you  know,  he  appears  to  fix  his  eyes  steadfastly 
upon  us,  and  continue  to  gaze  as  though  he  were  filled 
with  deep  thought  that  shut  out  conversation." 

69 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"And  at  these  moments  there  is  an  indescribable 
something  about  him  which  reminds  me  of  our  adored 
mother." 

"  And  since  that  beloved  parent  sees  from  above  all 
that  befalls  us,  how  delighted  must  she  be  at  what  has 
occurred !  " 

"  because  we  should  not  be  loved  as  we  are  if  we  did 
not  deserve  it." 

"  Little  vain  thing !  "  said  Blanche,  putting  back  with 
her  delicate  fingers  a  braid  of  her  sister' s  rich  chestnut 
hair  which  had  escaped  from  its  simple  bandeau ;  then, 
gravely  reflecting  for  a  few  minutes,  she  added : 

_  "  Sister  dear,  do  you  not  think  we  ought  to  commu- 
nicate to  Dagobert  all  that  has  happened  ? " 

"  By  all  means,  if  you  consider  it  right." 

"  Yes,  we  will  tell  him  the  whole  affair,  as  though  we 
were  relating  it  to  our  mother ;  why  should  we  conceal 
anything  from  him  ?  " 

"Especially  a  matter  which  affords  us  both  such 
happiness." 

"Have  you  not  fancied  since  we  first  saw  our  dear 
friend  that  our  hearts  have  beaten  with  a  quicker  and 
more  powerful  pulsation  ?  " 

>"  Indeed  I  have,  as  though  they  were  too  small  to  con- 
tain the  crowd  of  pleasing  thoughts  which  now  possess 
them." 

"And  because  our  dear  friend  occupies  so  large  a 
place  in  them." 

"  So,  then,  we  will  inform  Dagobert  of  all  our  good 
fortune  ;  will  it  not  be  best,  dear  sister  ? " 

"  Much  best  and  quite  right,  since  you  think  so." 

At  this  moment  the  dog  growled  a  deep  note  of 
approaching  danger. 

"  Sister,"  said  Rose,  closely  pressing  towards  Blanche, 
"what  can  cause  the  dog  to  growl  in  this  unusual 
manner  ?  " 

"Killjoy,  be  quiet!     Leave  off  scolding,  and  come 

70 


ROSE  AND  BLANCHE. 


here ! "  exclaimed  Blanche,  patting  the  side  of  the  bed 
with  her  small  hand.  The  dog  arose,  and,  still  growling 
angrily,  came  and  placed  his  great,  intelligent-looking 
head  on  the  counterpane,  still  keeping  his  eyes  obsti- 
nately fixed  on  the  window.  The  sisters,  by  way  of 
calming  his  uneasiness,  leaned  towards  him,  and  patted 
and  caressed  his  large  forehead,  in  the  middle  of  which 
rose  the  protuberance  denoting  the  fine  race  from  which 
he  derived  his  origin. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  poor  fellow  ?  "  said  Blanche,, 
softly  smoothing  down  his  great  ears;  "what  makes 
you  growl  so,  —  eh,  Killjoy  ?  " 

"  Poor  thing !  He  always  frets  when  Dagobert  is 
away." 

"  Yes,  so  he  does ;  he  appears  to  know  that  he  has 
then  a  double  watch  to  keep." 

"  Dagobert  seems  away  longer  than  usual  this  evening, 
does  he  not,  sister  ?  " 

"  He  is  attending  to  Jovial,  no  doubt." 

"And  that  reminds  me  we  forgot  to  bid  our  accus- 
tomed 6  good  night '  to  our  faithful  Jovial." 

"  So  we  did  ;  I  am  very  sorry." 

"  Dear  old  horse,  he  always  seems  so  pleased  to  see 
us,  and  licks  our  hands  so  kindly ;  he  appears  as  though 
thanking  us  for  going  to  see  him  the  last  thing." 

"  Fortunately  Dagobert  will  be  sure  to  bid  him  good 
night  for  us." 

"  Good,  excellent  Dagobert !  Always  thinking  of  us,  — 
he  quite  spoils  us,  and  makes  us  idle.  We  do  nothing, 
while  he  is  always  toiling." 

"  But  how  can  we  possibly  hinder  him  ?" 

"  What  a  pity  we  are  not  rich  that  we  might  obtain 
him  a  little  rest !  " 

"  Ah,  dear  sister,  we  shall  never  have  that  happiness, 
—  we  are  poor  orphans,  and  must  ever  remain  so." 

"  But  our  medal  ? " 

"  Has  no  doubt  some  great  power  attached  to  it, 

71 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


otherwise  we  should  not  have  undertaken  this  long 
journey." 

"  Dagobert  has  promised  to  tell  us  all  this  evening." 

Ere  the  young  girl  could  proceed,  two  panes  of  glass 
in  their  window  were  dashed  to  pieces  with  a  loud  noise. 

The  orphans,  screaming  with  affright,  threw  them- 
selves into  each  other's  arms,  while  the  dog,  barking 
furiously,  rushed  towards  the  broken  casement. 

Pale,  speechless,  and  trembling,  holding  each  other  in 
a  convulsive  grasp,  the  sisters  scarcely  ventured  to 
breathe,  while  the  dog,  standing  erect,  his  forepaws 
resting  on  the  window-sill,  barked  in  the  most  angry 
and  determined  manner. 

The  two  sisters,  whose  extreme  terror  prevented  their 
even  venturing  to  look  towards  the  scene  of  alarm,  at 
length  found  words  to  exclaim : 

"  What  can  this  be  ?  Why  is  not  Dagobert  here  to 
save  and  to  protect  us  ? " 

All  at  once  Rose,  seizing  the  arm  of  Blanche,  ex- 
claimed, "  Sister,  listen  !  Some  person  is  ascending  the 
staircase ! " 

"That  is  not  Dagobert's  step,  —  it  is  far  too  heavy. 
Hark  !  How  heavily  it  comes  !  " 

"  Here,  here,  Killjoy,  —  my  good  dog  —  come  to  us  — 
save  us  !  —  save  us  !  "  cried  the  sisters,  in  an  agony  of 
terror. 

Steps  of  extraordinary  heaviness  were  heard  slowly 
ascending  the  wooden  stairs,  which  creaked  beneath  the 
ponderous  body  they  could  barely  support,  and  then  a 
singular  species  of  rustling  was  heard  along  the  slight 
partition  which  separated  their  chamber  from  the  stair- 
case, till  a  heavy  weight,  falling  against  their  door,  shook 
it  violently,  and  threatened  destruction  to  the  frail  ma- 
terials of  which  it  was  composed.  Terrified  beyond  the 
power  of  uttering  a  word,  the  two  poor  girls  mutely 
sought  in  each  other's  looks  a  gleam  of  hope  or  comfort. 
At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  and  Dagobert  entered. 

72 


ROSE  AND  BLANCHE. 


At  this  welcome  sight  Blanche  and  Rose  embraced 
each  other  as  though  all  danger  were  over. 

"  What  has  disturbed  you,  my  children  ?  Why  this 
alarm  ?  "  inquired  the  soldier,  with  extreme  surprise. 

"  Oh! "  said  Rose,  almost  gasping  for  breath, "  if  you 
did  but  know — " 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Blanche,  who  could  distinctly  feel 
the  rapid  throb  of  her  sister's  heart  keep  pace  with  the 
troubled  beat  of  her  own,  "  if  you  only  knew  what  has 
just  happened !  We  did  not  recognise  your  step  just 
now,  —  it  seemed  far  too  heavy ;  and  then  that  noise 
against  the  wainscot." 

"  Why,  you  frightened  little  dears !  I  could  not 
ascend  the  staircase  with  the  lightness  of  fifteen  years, 
having  my  bed  to  carry  up  with  me,  that  is  to  say  a  pal- 
liasse, which  I  have  just  thrown  down  at  your  door, 
intending  to  take  up  my  lodging  there,  as  usual." 

"  To  be  sure ! "  said  Rose,  looking  at  Blanche,  "  that 
was  it !  How  very  stupid  of  us  not  to  think  it  must 
be  you  carrying  your  bed ! " 

And  with  this  satisfactory  conclusion  of  their  terrors 
the  countenance  of  each  of  the  fair  girls  reassumed  the 
bright  colour  which  appeared  to  have  quite  forsaken  their 
cheeks.  During  this  scene  the  dog  neither  quitted  his 
position  at  the  window,  nor  ceased  his  incessant  and 
furious  barking. 

"  What  makes  Killjoy  bark  so,  my  children  ?  " 
inquired  the  old  soldier. 

"  Indeed  we  cannot  tell  you  ;  some  one  has  broken  two 
squares  of  glass,  which  was  the  beginning  of  our  alarm." 

Without  answering  a  word,  Dagobert  hastened  to  the 
window,  opened  it  quickly,  pushed  back  the  curtains,  and 
looked  out. 

Nothing  was  to  be  seen  or  heard,  a  darkness  like  that 
of  night  prevailed.  He  listened  attentively ;  all,  however 
was  still,  save  the  dull  sobbing  of  the  night  wind.  He 
called  the  dog.    "  Out  there,  old  fellow  !  "  cried  he,  show- 

73 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


ing  the  window.  "  Out  and  search  diligently  !  Look  into 
every  corner !  " 

The  noble  animal,  obedient  to  his  word  and  animated 
by  his  voice,  cleared  at  one  bound  the  distance  from  the 
ground,  which  could  not  have  been  less  than  eight  feet, 
and  disappeared  through  the  open  space,  while  Dagobert, 
still  looking  out,  excited  his  dog,  both  by  speech  and 
gesture,  to  keep  up  the  search. 

"  Go  seek;  go  seek,  my  fine  fellow  !  And  if  you  find  any 
one,  hold  him  tight,  —  your  teeth  are  strong  enough  to 
hold  a  lion,  —  don't  let  go  till  I  come." 

But  Killjoy  found  no  one. 

Still  he  ran  to  and  fro,  as  though  on  the  scent  of  some- 
thing that  had  not  long  since  passed,  and  occasionally 
uttering  a  half  suppressed  cry  like  that  of  a  dog  who  is 
hunting  game,  and  begins  to  hope  he  is  on  the  track. 

"  There  is  no  one,  then,  old  boy,  I  am  sure,  for  if  there 
had  been,  you  would  have  pinned  them  to  the  earth  ere 
this." 

_  Then  turning  to  the  young  girls,  who  were  following 
his  movements  and  listening  to  his  words  with  an  expres- 
sion of  uneasiness,  he  exclaimed  : 

"And  how  were  these  squares  of  glass  broken,  my 
children  ?    Were  you  able  to  see  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  Dagobert,  we  were  conversing  together 
when  suddenly  the  glass  fell  into  the  room  with  a  loud 
noise." 

"  It  seemed  to  me,"  added  Rose,  "  as  though  a  shutter 
had  slammed  against  them  violently." 

Dagobert  closely  examined  the  outer  shutter  or  latticed 
blind,  and  discovered  a  long  projecting  hook  intended  for 
the  purpose  of  fastening  it  withinside. 

"  The  wind  is  high  to-night,"  said  he,  "  and  has  most 
probably  blown  this  shutter  forcibly  against  the  glass, 
which  has  been  broken  by  the  iron  handle.  Yes,  yes,  that 
must  be  it ;  besides,  what  interest  can  any  person  have  in 
doing  such  a  piece  of  mischief?"    Then  speaking  to 

74 


ROSE  AND  BLANCHE. 


Killjoy,  he  added,  "  Come  in,  my  brave  fellow,  —  there 
is  nobody  there,  is  there  ?  " 

The  dog  replied  by  a  low  growl,  interpreted  by  the  old 
soldier  in  the  negative,  as  he  immediately  answered  : 

"  Then  take  one  round  and  examine  every  part  of  the 
premises,  then  come  back,  your  door  will  be  open  ready 
for  your  return,  so  away  with  you  !  " 

The  sagacious  dog,  perfectly  comprehending  the  direc- 
tions given  to  him,  departed  upon  his  mission  after  once 
more  sniffing  eagerly  at  the  window-sill,  then  ran  off  to 
reconnoitre  the  buildings,  both  inside  and  out. 

"Come, my  children,"  said  the  soldier,  returning  to  the 
orphans, "  don't  be  alarmed." 

"  It  was  only  the  wind,"  said  Blanche,  smiling. 

"  But  it  frightened  us  sadly,  good  Dagobert,  it  did, 
indeed,"  added  Rose. 

"  I  dare  say  it  did,  but  I  must  close  up  that  opening, 
the  wind  will  blow  in  else,"  said  the  soldier,  turning 
towards  the  broken  window. 

After  looking  about  for  some  time  for  the  means  of 
remedying  the  mischief,  he  bethought  himself  of  the 
pelisse  of  reindeer-skin,  which  he  suspended  by  means  of 
the  iron  rod  which  crossed  the  casement,  and  with  the 
thick  skirts  hermetically  stopped  the  opening  made  by 
the  broken  glass. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,  kind  Dagobert,  but  we  were 
so  uneasy  at  not  seeing  you  sooner !  " 

"Yes,  indeed,  Dagobert,  you  stayed  away  this  time 
longer  than  usual." 

Then  for  the  first  time  perceiving  the  paleness  and 
agitation  of  the  old  man,  whose  countenance  still  evinced 
traces  of  the  powerful  excitement  produced  by  his  late 
rencontre  with  Morok,  Rose  continued  : 

"  But  what  has  been  the  matter  ?  How  very  pale  you 
are ! " 

"  Me,  my  children  !  Oh,  nothing  —  nothing.  What 
can  possibly  ail  me  ? " 

75 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Yes,  indeed,  dear  Dagobert,  something  is  wrong  with 
you,  your  countenance  is  quite  altered.  My  sister  is 
right  —  surely  you  are  not  ill  ?  " 

"  My  dear  children,"  said  the  old  soldier,  with  consid- 
erable embarrassment,  for  falsehood  was  a  hard  task  with 
him,  "  you  may  be  assured  nothing  whatever  ails  me,  or 
has  occurred."  Then,  as  if  he  had  found  a  capital  pretext 
for  his  disturbed  looks,  he  added,  "  Or  if,  indeed,  there 
be  anything  the  matter,  it  is  simply  my  uneasiness  at 
finding  you  so  much  alarmed,  because  it  has  all  hap- 
pened through  me." 

"  Through  you  ?    Oh,  no,  Dagobert !  " 

"  Yes,  if  I  had  not  lingered  so  over  my  supper,  I 
should  have  been  with  you  when  the  glass  was  broken, 
and  have  prevented  your  experiencing  the  degree  of 
terror  it  caused  you." 

"  Then  don't  let  us  think  any  more  about  it.  And  will 
you  not  sit  down,  dear  Dagobert  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  children  ;  for  we  have  much  to  talk  about," 
replied  the  old  man,  drawing  a  chair  beside  the  lowly  pil- 
low of  the  sisters.  "  Now,  then,  are  you  quite  awake  ?  " 
said  he,  trying  by  an  affectation  of  gaiety  to  dispel  their 
recent  agitation.  "  Let  me  see  whether  those  large  eyes 
are  quite  open  or  not." 

"  Look,  Dagobert,  look ! "  said  the  sisters,  smiling  in 
their  turn,  and  opening  their  blue  eyes  full  upon 
him. 

"  That  will  do,  young  ladies  !  "  said  Dagobert ;  "  but 
we  must  not  talk  too  long ;  however,  it  is  scarcely  nine 
o'clock  at  present." 

"  We  have  something  also  to  tell  you,  Dagobert," 
replied  Rose,  after  having  consulted  her  sister's  coun- 
tenance. 

"  Indeed ! " 

"  Yes,  something  to  tell  you  in  great  confidence  ! " 
"  In  great  confidence  !  " 
"  Yes,  indeed,  we  have  !  " 

76 


ROSE  AND  BLANCHE. 


"  A  secret  of  the  most  important  description,"  added 
Rose,  with  a  serious  look  and  manner. 

"  And  one  which  concerns  us  both  most  nearly," 
rejoined  Blanche. 

"  To  be  sure,"  answered  the  soldier  ;  "  don't  I  know 
that  what  concerns  one  concerns  the  other  equally  ?  Are 
you  not  always  two  faces  under  a  hood  ? " 

"  Yes,  when  you  cover  our  two  heads  with  the  large 
hood  of  the  fur  pelisse,  then  we  are  indeed,"  said  Rose, 
laughing  merrily. 

"  Why,  you  little  mocking-birds,  you  never  let  an  old 
man  get  the  last  word.  But  now,  then,  for  this  great 
secret,  since  a  secret  there  is." 

"  Speak,  sister,"  said  Blanche. 

"  No,  no,  young  lady,  do  you  tell  the  tale.  You  are 
to-day  commander  of  the  platoon  and  senior  officer,  and 
therefore  so  important  a  matter  as  the  great  secret  you 
have  to  disclose  devolves  by  right  on  you.  Now,  then, 
begin.  I  am  all  attention,"  said  the  old  soldier,  striving 
by  an  appearance  of  jocularity  to  conceal  from  his  young 
charges  how  sorely  his  chafed  spirit  still  writhed  beneath 
the  aggravations  bestowed  on  him  by  the  brute-conqueror, 
Morok. 

Thus  directed,  Rose,  as  leader  of  the  squadron,  as 
Dagobert  styled  her,  thus  spoke  for  her  sister  and  self. 


77 


CHAPTER  VI. 


MUTUAL  CONFIDENCE. 

"  Now,  dear  good  Dagobert,"  said  Rose,  with  an  air  of 
charming  ingenuousness,  "  as  we  are  going  to  tell  you  a 
very  great  secret,  you  must  first  promise  us  that  you 
will  not  be  angry." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  added  Blanche,  in  a  tone  equally  depre- 
catory, "  you  must  not  scold  your  children,  will  you  ?" 

"  Granted,"  replied  Dagobert,  gravely,  "  because  I 
should  not  know  how  to  do  it  even  if  I  were  so  inclined ; 
but  what  is  there  to  be  angry  about  ? " 

"Why,  perhaps,  we  ought  to  have  told  you  before 
what  we  are  going  to  inform  you  of  now." 

"Listen,  my  dears,"  replied  Dagobert,  sententiously, 
after  having  turned  over  in  his  mind  for  a  moment  this 
case  of  conscience,  "  one  of  two  things  must  be ;  either 
you  are  right  or  wrong  in  concealing  anything  from  me. 
If  you  are  right,  why,  so  it  is ;  if  you  are  wrong,  why, 
it's  done,  and  there's  an  end  on't,  —  let's  say  no  more 
about  it.    Now,  I  am  all  attention." 

Entirely  set  at  ease  in  their  minds  by  this  luminous 
decision,  Rose  and  her  sister  exchanged  a  smile,  and  the 
former  resumed : 

"  Dagobert,  only  imagine  that  for  two  nights  following 
we  have  had  a  visit." 

"  A  visit !  "  and  the  soldier  drew  himself  up  erect  in 
his  chair. 

"  Yes,  a  delightful  visit ;  for  he  is  fair." 

78 


MUTUAL  CONFIDENCE. 


"  What  the  d — 1 !  He  is  fair  !  "  exclaimed  Dagobert, 
starting  up  suddenly. 

?  Fair,  with  blue  eyes,"  added  Blanche. 

"  The  deuce  !  and  blue  eyes,  too  ; "  and  Dagobert  again 
started. 

"  Yes,  blue  eyes  as  large  as  that,"  said  Rose,  placing 
the  end  of  the  forefinger  of  her  right  hand  in  the  middle 
of  the  forefinger  of  her  left  hand. 

"  But,  morbleu  !  If  they  were  as  large  as  this,"  and  the 
veteran  held  out  his  arm  from  his  elbow  to  his  wrist,  — 
"  if  they  were  as  large  as  this,  that  would  be  nothing ; 
but  a  fair  man  with  blue  eyes,  ah,  young  ladies,  what 
does  that  signify  ? "  and  Dagobert  rose  from  his  seat, 
evidently  greatly  disturbed  and  disquieted. 

"  Ah,  now,  Dagobert,  you  see  you  are  angry 
directly!" 

"  And  this  is  only  the  beginning,"  added  Blanche. 
"  The  beginning,  —  what  is  there  more  ?    Is  there  an 
end  to  it?" 

"  An  end  ?  Oh,  we  hope  not  yet ;  "  and  Rose  laughed 
very  heartily. 

"  All  we  hope  is,  that  it  may  last  for  ever,"  added 
Blanche,  joining  in  her  sister's  mirth. 

Dagobert  looked  at  them  in  turns  with  a  most  serious 
air,  in  order  to  find,  if  possible,  some  clue  to  this  enigma, 
but  when  he  saw  their  lovely  countenances  animated 
only  by  open  and  joyous  laughter,  he  reflected  that  they 
could  not  be  so  mirthful  if  they  had  any  serious  reproach 
to  make  against  themselves,  and  he  at  once  abandoned 
every  thought  but  that  of  being  glad  to  see  the  orphans 
so  gay  and  happy  in  their  very  precarious  position,  and 
said : 

"  Laugh,  laugh  away,  my  loves,  I  like  to  see  you  laugh 
in  this  way."  Then  reflecting  that,  perhaps,  that  was 
not  precisely  the  reply  which  he  ought  to  make  to  the 
singular  recital  of  the  young  maidens,  he  added,  in  a 
serious  voice : 

79 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  I  like  to  see  you  laugh,  certainly,  yes,  —  but  not 
when  you  receive  fair  visitors  with  blue  eyes,  mesdemoi- 
selles ;  come,  come,  tell  me  at  once  that  you  are  jesting 
with  me,  —  you  have  got  up  some  little  joke  between 
you,  haven't  you  ? " 

"  No  ;  what  we  have  told  you  is  quite  true.', 
"You  know  we  never  told  you  a  falsehood,"  added 
Rose. 

"  True,  true,  indeed,  they  never  tell  untruths,"  said  the 
soldier,  whose  perplexity  was  thus  renewed  ;  "  but  how 
the  d — 1  are  such  visits  possible  ?  I  sleep  on  the  threshold 
outside  your  room  door,  Killjoy  sleeps  under  your  win* 
dow,  and  all  the  blue  eyes  and  chestnut  hair  in  the 
world  cannot  enter  but  by  the  door  or  the  window,  and 
if  they  had  attempted,  why,  Killjoy  and  I  should  have 
given  them  a  welcome  in  our  peculiar  way.  But,  come 
now,  my  children,  tell  me  at  once,  and  without  any 
jesting,  —  pray,  explain  this  to  me." 

The  two  sisters,  seeing  by  the  expression  of  Dagobert's 
features  that  he  was  suffering  under  real  uneasiness, 
resolved  not  to  prolong  his  disquietude,  and,  exchanging 
glances,  Rose  took  into  her  own  little  hands  the  coarse, 
broad  palm  of  the  veteran,  and  said  : 

"Well,  then,  you  shall  not  be  teased  any  longer. 
We  will  tell  you  all  about  the  visits  of  our  friend  —  of 
Gabriel  —  " 

"  What,  are  you  beginning  again  ?  He  has  a  name, 
has  he?" 

"  Certainly  he  has,  and  it  is  Gabriel." 

"  What  a  pretty  name,  isn't  it,  Dagobert  ?  Oh,  you 
will  see  him,  and  love  our  beautiful  Gabriel  as  much  as 
we  do." 

"  I  shall  love  your  Gabriel  ? "  said  the  veteran,  shak- 
ing his  head.  "  I  shall  love  your  beautiful  Gabriel  ? 
Why,  that's  as  may  be  ;  but  I  must  know  him  first." 

Then  interrupting  himself,  "  But  it's  very  singular* ;  it 
reminds  me  of  something." 

80 


MUTUAL  CONFIDENCE. 


"  Of  what,  Dagobert  ? " 

«  Why,  fifteen  years  ago,  in  the  last  letter  that  your 
father  brought  me  from  my  wife,  when  he  returned 
from  France,  she  told  me  that,  poor  as  she  was,  and 
although  she  had  then  one  little  boy,  Agricola,  in  arms 
(though  he  was  growing  fast),  she  had  received  and 
was  bringing  up  a  poor  little  infant  who  had  been  for- 
saken ;  that  it  had  a  face  like  a  cherub,  and  was  named 
Gabriel ;  and  it  is  not  very  long  ago  that  I  had  some 
news  about  him." 

"  From  whom  ?" 

"  You  shall  know  all  in  good  time." 

"  Well,  then,  you  see,  as  you  have  a  Gabriel  of  your 
own,  that's  the  very  reason  why  you  should  love  our 
Gabriel." 

"  Yours  —  yours  —  let  me  see  yours  ;  I  sit  on  burn- 
ing coals." 

"  You  know,  Dagobert,"  replied  Hose,  "  that  Blanche 
and  I  always  go  to  sleep  holding  each  other  by  the 
hand." 

Yes,  yes,  I  have  seen  you  so  a  hundred  times  in 
your  cradle.  I  was  never  tired  of  looking  at  you  so ; 
you  looked  so  good  and  nice." 

"  Well,  two  nights  ago  we  were  sleeping  so  calm  we 
saw  —  " 

"  It  was  a  dream,  then !  "  exclaimed  Dagobert.  "  If 
you  were  asleep  it  must  have  been  a  dream." 

"  To  be  sure  it  was  a  dream.  What  else  could  you 
think  it  was  ?  " 

"  Let  my  sister  go  on." 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  soldier,  with  a  sigh 
of  extreme  satisfaction.  "  Certainly,  in  every  respect  I 
felt  quite  assured  in  my  own  mind  ;  because,  you  see  — 
but  it  is  quite  as  I  wished  —  a  dream.  I  am  glad  it 
was  a  dream.    But  go  on,  my  little  Rose." 

"  As  soon  as  we  were  both  asleep  we  had  the  same 
dream." 

81 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  What !  both  ?    What !  each  the  same  dream  ?  " 
"Yes,  Dagobert;  for  the  next  morning,  when  we 
awoke,  we  told  each  other  what  we  had  both  dreamed." 
"  And  both  had  dreamed  alike." 

"  Really  !  Well,  it  is  very  extraordinary,  my  dears. 
And  what  was  this  dream  about  ?  " 

<<  Why,  in  this  dream,  Blanche  and  I  were  sitting 
beside  each  other,  and  there  came  to  us  a  beautiful  angel 
with  a  long  white  robe,  chestnut  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  a 
countenance  so  beautiful  and  so  kind  that  we  joined  our 
hands  together  as  though  to  pray  to  it.  Then  it  told  us, 
in  a  sweet,  soft  voice,  that  its  name  was  Gabriel,  and 
that  our  mother  had  sent  it  to  us  to  be  our  guardian 
angel,  and  that  it  would  never  forsake  us." 

"  And  then,"  added  Blanche,  "  taking  one  of  each  of 
our  hands  into  one  of  its  own,  and  bending  its  beautiful 
face  towards  us,  it  looked  at  us  for  a  very  long  time  in 
silence,  and  very,  very  kindly,  —  so  kindly,  indeed,  that 
we  could  not  take  away  our  eyes  from  his." 

"  Yes,"  resumed  Rose,  "  and  it  seemed  as  if  every 
moment  his  look  was  more  benign  and  went  to  our  very 
heart.  Then,  to  our  great  mortification,  Gabriel  left  us, 
saying  that  the  next  night  we  should  see  him  again." 

"  And  did  he  appear  the  next  night  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  and  you  may  judge  how  anxious  we  were 
to  go  to  sleep  that  we  might  learn  whether  or  no  our 
friend  would  return  to  us  during  our  slumber." 

"  Umph !  That  reminds  me,  mesdemoiselles,  that  you 
rubbed  your  eyes  very  much  the  night  before  last,"  said 
Dagobert,  rubbing  his  forehead ;  "  you  pretended  to  be 
so  very  sleepy,  and  I'll  wager  that  that  was  in  order  to 
get  rid  of  me  the  sooner,  that  you  might  jump  into  bed 
and  go  off  to  sleep  sooner !  " 

"  Yes,  Dagobert." 

"  Why,  you  could  not  say  to  me  as  you  can  to  Kill- 
joy, 6  Go  to  bed,  sir ! '    And  did  your  friend,  Gabriel,  ~ 
return  ?  " 

82 


MUTUAL  CONFIDENCE. 


«  To  be  sure ;  and  he  talked  a  great  deal  to  us,  and, 
in  our  mother's  name,  gave  us  such  good  and  tender 
adyice  that  Rose  and  I,  next  day,  could  think  of  noth- 
ing else  but  repeating  to  each  other  everything  that  our 
guardian  angel  had  uttered  and  advised  us,  as  well  as 
about  his  face  and  his  look." 

"  That  reminds  me,  mesdemoiselles,  that  yesterday 
you  were  whispering  together  all  along  the  road,  and 
when  I  asked  you  a  straight  question  you  gave  me  a 
crooked  answer." 

"  Yes,  Dagobert,  we  were  thinking  of  Gabriel ;  and  as 
we  both  love  him  as  much  as  he  loves  us  —  " 

"  But  is  he  devoted  to  you  two  only  ? " 

"  Was  not  our  mother  devoted  to  us  two  only  ?  And 
you,  Dagobert,  are  not  you  devoted  to  us  two 
only  ?  " 

"  True,  true  ;  but  do  you  know  that  I  shall  become 
jealous  of  this  gay  gentleman  ?" 

"  You  are  our  friend  by  day,  and  he  by  night." 

"  But,  see,  if  you  talk  of  him  all  day  and  dream  of 
him  all  night,  what  will  there  be  left  for  me?" 

"  Two  orphans  whom  you  love  so  dearly,"  said  Rose. 

"And  who  have  only  you  to  look  to  in  the  wide 
world,"  added  Blanche,  in  an  affectionate  tone. 

"Ah,  ah,  that's  the  way  you  coax  the  old  soldier. 
Well,  well,  my  darlings,"  added  the  veteran,  in  a  tone  of 
tenderness,  "  I  am  content  with  my  lot,  and  I  leave 
you  to  your  Gabriel.  I  knew  that  Killjoy  and  I  might 
sleep  quietly  enough.  Besides,  it  is  not  so  very  aston- 
ishing; your  first  dream  had  made  an  impression  on 
you,  and  as  you  talked  together  so  much  about  it,  why 
you  dreamed  it  all  over  again,  and  so  I  should  not  be 
astonished  if  you  saw  it  for  the  third  time  again.  This 
beautiful  night-bird  —  " 

"  Oh,  Dagobert,  do  not  laugh  at  it.  True,  they  were 
only  dreams,  but  they  seem  as  if  they  were  sent  by  our 
mother,    Did  she  not  tell  us  that  young  orphan  girls 

83 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


had  guardian  angels  ?  And  so  Gabriel  is  our  guardian 
angel,  and  will  protect  us  and  you  also." 

"  It  would  be  very  kind  of  him  to  think  of  me ;  but, 
my  dear  girls,  do  you  see  that  I  prefer  as  my  aide-de-camp 
in  protecting  you  friend  Killjoy  ?  He  is  not  so  fair  as 
an  angel,  but  his  teeth  are  stronger,  and  his  bite  more 
sure." 

"Ah,  you  are  very  tiresome,  Dagobert,  with  your 
jokes." 

"  Yes,  you  really  are ;  you  laugh  at  everything." 

"  Yes,  it  is  astonishing  how  gay  I  am.  I  laugh  like 
old  Jovial  without  showing  my  teeth ;  but  do  not  scold 
me,  my  dear  children.  I  was  wrong ;  the  thought  of 
your  sainted  mother  mingled  with  this  dream,  and  we 
should  always  talk  of  her  with  seriousness.  Besides," 
added  he,  with  a  grave  air,  "  there's  sometimes  truth  in 
dreams.  In  Spain,  two  comrades  of  mine  of  the  em- 
press's dragoons  dreamed,  the  night  before  they  died, 
that  they  were  poisoned  by  the  monks,  and  so  they 
were.  If  you  resolve  on  dreaming  about  your  beautiful 
angel,  Gabriel,  why  —  you  see  then  —  why,  if  it  amuses 
you,  why  not  ?  You  have  not  much  entertainment  dur- 
ing the  day,  and  so  your  sleep  ought  to  be  as  diverting 
as  possible.  But  I  have  a  good  deal  to  tell  you,  all 
about  your  mother ;  but  promise  me  not  to  be 
sad." 

"  Certainly  we  do ;  when  we  think  of  her  we  are  not 
sad,  but  only  serious." 

"  Well,  well ;  for  fear  of  making  you  sorrowful,  I  have 
put  off  as  long  as  I  could  telling  you  what  your  poor 
mother  would  have  told  you  when  you  had  ceased  to  be 
children,  but  she  died  so  suddenly  that  she  had  not  time  ; 
and,  then,  what  she  would  have  told  you  would  almost 
have  broken  her  heart,  and  mine  also ;  so  I  delayed  my 
confidence  as  long  as  I  could,  and  I  did  not  tell  you  any- 
thing before  the  day  when  we  crossed  the  field  of  battle 
in  which  your  father  was  taken  prisoner  —  I  gained 

84 


MUTUAL  CONFIDENCE. 


time  by  that  —  but  now  the  moment  has  arrived,  and 
there  is  no  retreat." 

"We  will  listen,  Dagobert,"  replied  the  young  girls, 
with  an  attentive  and  melancholy  air. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  he  collected 
himself,  the  veteran  said  to  the  two  sisters : 

"Your  father,  General  Simon,  was  the  son  of  a 
mechanic,  who  remained  a  mechanic,  for,  in  spite  of  all 
that  the  general  could  do  or  say,  the  good  man  obsti- 
nately clung  to  his  employment,  —  he  had  a  head  of  iron 
and  a  heart  of  gold,  just  like  his  son.  You  may  sup- 
pose, my  children,  that  if  your  father,  who  enlisted  as  a 
common  soldier,  became  a  general  and  a  count  of  the 
empire,  that  that  was  not  attained  without  exertion  and 
glory." 

"  Count  of  the  empire,  Dagobert,  what's  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  folly  —  a  title  which  the  emperor  gave  (be- 
yond the  bargain)  with  the  promotion  —  a  something  to 
say  to  the  people,  whom  he  loved,  because  he  belonged 
to  them.  My  children,  you  like  to  play  at  nobility,  as 
the  old  noblesse  did ;  well,  then,  you  are  noble.  If  you 
like  to  play  at  kings,  I'll  make  kings  of  you  —  try  every- 
thing. There's  nothing  too  high  or  too  good  for  you  — 
so  feast  on  what  you  prefer  or  fancy." 

"  Kings  !  "  said  the  little  girls,  clasping  their  hands  in 
wonder. 

"  More  than  kings,  if  that's  possible.  Ah,  he  was  not 
selfish  with  crowns  and  thrones,  the  emperor.  I  had  a 
bedfellow,  as  good  a  soldier  as  ever  drew  sword,  who 
became  a  king;  well,  we  all  liked  that,  it  flattered  us, 
because  when  one  was  a  king,  we  were  all  kings,  and  it 
was  playing  at  this  game  that  your  father  became  a 
count;  but,  count  or  no  count,  he  was  the  handsomest 
and  bravest  general  in  the  army." 

"  He  was  very  handsome,  Dagobert,  was  he  not  ?  Our 
mother  always  said  so." 

"  Oh,  indeed  he  was,  but  he  was  by  no  means  a  fair 

85 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


man,  like  jour  guardian  angel.  Imagine  a  splendid, 
dark-complexioned  man,  in  full  uniform,  a  man  to  daz- 
zle your  eyes,  and  put  courage  into  your  heart;  with 
him  a  soldier  would  have  charged  on  the  Ion  Dieu  him- 
self, —  that  is,  you  will  understand,  if  the  bon  Dieu  had 
desired  it,"  added  Dagobert,  eager  to  correct  himself,  and 
desirous  in  no  way  to  wound  the  innocent  creed  of  the 
orphans. 

"  And  our  father  was  as  good  as  he  was  brave,  wasn't 
he,  Dagobert  ?  " 

<  <  Good,  my  darlings !  —  he  ?  I  believe  so !  He  could 
bend  a  horseshoe  between  his  hands  as  you  could  bend 
a  card,  and  the  day  he  was  made  prisoner  he  had  cut 
down  the  Prussian  artillerymen  at  their  very  guns. 
With  his  courage  and  strength,  how  could  he  help  being- 
good  ?  It  is  nearly  nineteen  years  ago  that  hereabouts, 
in  the  place  I  pointed  out  to  you  before  we  entered  the 
village,  the  general  fell  from  his  horse  dangerously 
wounded.  As  his  orderly,  I  followed  him,  and  ran  to 
his  succour.  Five  minutes  afterwards  we  were  taken 
prisoners  —  and  by  whom,  think  you?  By  a  French- 
man." 

"  A  Frenchman  ? " 

"Yes;  an  emigrant  marquis,  colonel  in  the  Russian 
service,"  replied  Dagobert,  bitterly.  "So  when  this 
marquis  said  as  he  advanced  to  the  general,  4  Surrender, 
sir,  to  a  countryman,'  your  father  replied, 6  A  Frenchman 
who  fights  against  his  fatherland  is  no  countryman  of 
mine  —  he  is  a  traitor,  and  I  do  not  surrender  to  trai- 
tors ! '  and,  wounded  as  he  was,  he  dragged  himself  to  a 
Russian  grenadier,  and  gave  him  his  sabre,  saying,  'I 
surrender  to  you,  my  gallant  fellow.'  The  marquis 
became  pale  with  rage." 

The  orphan  girls  looked  at  each  other  proudly,  a 
scarlet  colour  suffused  their  cheeks,  and  they  exclaimed  : 

"  Brave  father  !    Brave  father  !  " 

"  Ah,"  said  Dagobert,  caressing  his  moustache  with  a 

86 


MUTUAL  CONFIDENCE. 


delighted  air,  "  we  may  see  the  soldier's  blood  in  the  girls' 
veins."  Then  he  continued,  "  Well,  we  were  prisoners, 
the  last  horse  of  the  general's  had  been  killed  under  him, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  mount  Jovial,  who  had  not  been 
wounded  that  day,  to  get  on  his  journey.  Well,  we 
reached  Warsaw.  There  the  general  met  your  mother, 
who  was  called  the  <  Pearl  of  Warsaw,'  and  that  name 
comprises  everything.  So  he  who  loved  all  that  was 
good  and  handsome  soon  fell  in  love  with  her ;  she  loved 
him  in  return,  but  her  parents  had  promised  her  to 
another,  and  that  other  was  no  other  than  —  " 

Dagobert  could  not  continue,  for  Rose,  uttering  a 
piercing  shriek,  pointed  to  the  window  in  an  agony  of 
fear. 


87 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  TRAVELLER. 

Dagobert  rose  quickly  at  the  cry  of  the  young  girl. 
"  What  ails  you,  Rose  ?" 

"  There  —  there  !  "  said  she,  pointing  to  the  window ; 
"  I  thought  I  saw  a  hand  move  the  pelisse." 

Rose  had  not  finished  these  words  before  Dagobert 
hastened  to  the  window,  which  he  opened  with  haste, 
after  having  taken  away  the  cloak  which  was  hung  up 
in  the  window-frame. 

It  was  very  dark  without,  and  the  wind  blew  violently. 

The  soldier  listened,  but  heard  nothing. 

He  then  took  the  candle  from  the  table,  and  endeav- 
oured to  throw  its  rays  outside  by  covering  the  flame 
with  his  hand. 

He  saw  nothing. 

Closing  the  window  again,  he  persuaded  himself  that 
a  gust  of  wind  had  moved  and  deranged  the  cloak.  Rose 
must  have  been  deceived. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  my  dears.  The  wind  is  very 
high,  and  must  have  stirred  the  corner  of  the  cloak." 

"  Yet  I  fancied  I  saw  the  fingers  which  moved  it  on 
one  side,"  said  Rose,  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"  I  was  looking  at  Dagobert,"  said  Blanche,  "  and  so 
did  not  see  anything." 

"  There  was  nothing  to  see,  my  children,  that's  quite 
evident.  The  window  is  at  least  eight  feet  and  a  half 
above  the  ground,  and  so  only  a  giant  could  reach  up,  or 
else  a  ladder  must  be  used  to  get  up.    If  there  had  been 


THE  TRAVELLER. 


a  ladder,  there  could  not  have  been  time  to  remove  it 
before  I  reached  the  window,  which  I  did  as  soon  as 
Rose  cried  out ;  and  when  I  held  the  candle  out  I  could 
not  see  anything." 

"  I  must  have  been  deceived,"  said  Rose. 

"  You  see,  sister,  it  could  only  have  been  the  wind," 
added  Blanche. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  interrupted  you,  Dagobert !  " 

"Never  mind  that,"  replied  the  soldier,  musing.  "I 
am  sorry  that  Killjoy  has  not  returned,  for  he  would 
have  kept  watch  at  the  window,  and  that  would  have 
given  you  confidence ;  but,  no  doubt,  he  has  smelled  out 
the  stable  of  his  comrade  Jovial,  and  has  gone  in  to  say 
good  night  to  him.  I  have  a  good  mind  to  go  out  and 
look  for  him." 

"  Oh,  no,  Dagobert,  do  not  leave  us  alone,"  exclaimed 
the  young  girls  ;  "  we  should  be  so  frightened  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  I  dare  say  Killjoy  will  not  be  long  before 
he  returns,  and  we  shall  soon  hear  him  scratching  at  the 
door.  Well,  then,  I'll  go  on  with  my  story,"  said  Dago- 
bert, as  he  seated  himself  at  the  foot  of  the  two  sisters' 
bed,  with  his  face  towards  the  window. 

"  Well,  the  general  was  a  prisoner  at  Warsaw  and  in 
love  with  your  mother,  whom  they  wished  to  marry  to 
another,"  he  said.  "  In  1814  the  war  was  brought  to  an 
end.  The  emperor  was  exiled  to  the  isle  of  Elba,  and 
the  Bourbons  were  restored ;  and,  in  concert  with  the 
Russians  and  Prussians  who  had  brought  them  back, 
they  had  exiled  the  emperor  to  the  island  of  Elba. 
When  your  mother  learnt  that,  she  said  to  the  general, 
4  The  war  is  ended  —  you  are  free  !  The  emperor  is  in 
misfortune ;  you  owe  all  to  him  —  go  to  him  !  I  know 
not  when  we  shall  meet  again ;  but  I  will  never  marry 
any  one  but  you.  I  am  yours  till  death ! '  Before  he 
started,  the  general  sent  for  me.  6  Dagobert,'  said  he, 
6  remain  here.  Perhaps  Mile.  Eva  may  require  your  aid 
to  fly  from  her  family  if  they  persecute  her,  —  our  cor- 

89 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


respondence  will  pass  through  your  hands.  In  Paris  I 
shall  see  your  wife  —  your  son  ;  and  I  will  console  them. 
I  will  tell  them  what  you  are  to  me,  —  how  dear  a 
friend ! ' " 

"  Always  the  same !  "  said  Rose,  in  a  tender  voice, 
looking  at  Dagobert. 

"  Good  to  the  father  and  the  mother  as  to  the  children ! " 
added  Blanche. 

"  To  love  the  one  was  to  love  the  other,"  replied  the 
veteran.  "  So,  then,  the  general  was  in  the  isle  of  Elba 
with  the  emperor.  I  was  at  Warsaw,  and  in  conceal- 
ment near  your  mother's  house,  when  I  received  letters 
and  conveyed  them  secretly  to  her.  In  one  of  these  — 
and  I  say  it  with  pride,  my  dears  —  the  general  told  me 
that  the  emperor  remembered  me." 

"  You !    What !    He  knew  you  then  ? " 

"  Yes,  a  little  bit,  I  natter  myself.  <  Ah !  Dagobert  ? 9 
said  he  to  your  father,  who  had  mentioned  me, 4  a  grena- 
dier of  my  old  horse-guard!  A  soldier  of  Egypt  and 
Italy,  furrowed  with  wounds;  an  old  " pince-sans-rire" 
whom  I  decorated  with  my  own  hand  at  Wagram :  I 
have  not  forgotten  him  ! '  Dame  !  My  children,  when 
your  mother  read  that  to  me,  I  cried  like  a  blubbering 
schoolboy  ! " 

"  The  emperor  !  Oh,  what  a  beautiful  golden  face  he 
had  in  your  silver  cross  with  the  red  riband  which  you 
used  to  show  us  sometimes  when  we  were  good  girls !  " 

"  That  was  the  very  cross  he  gave  me  with  his  own 
hand.  It  is  my  relic  —  mine  !  —  and  it  is  there  in  that 
bag  with  all  that  we  have  in  the  world,  —  our  little  purse 
and  our  papers.  But  to  return  to  your  mother.  When 
I  carried  to  her  the  general's  letters,  and  talked  with  her 
about  him,  that  was  a  great  comfort  to  her,  for  she  suf- 
fered a  great  deal.  Oh,  yes ;  a  very  great  deal.  Her 
relatives  were  very  unkind  to  her,  and  tormented  her 
greatly  ;  but  she  always  told  them, 6 1  will  never  marry 
any  one  but  General  Simon ! '    She  was  a  determined 

90 


THE  TRAVELLER. 


spirit,  she  was,  —  resigned,  but  full  of  courage  '  One 
day  she  received  a  letter  from  the  general.  He  had 
sailed  from  Elba  with  the  emperor.  The  war  began 
again;  and  in  this  campaign  of  France,  especially  at 
Montmirail,  my  loves,  your  father  fought  like  a  lion 
and  his  brigade  fought  like  him.  It  was  no  longer 
bravery,  — it  was  downright  rage;  and  he  told  me  that 
m  Champagne  the  peasantry  killed  so  many  Prussians 
that  their  fields  were  manured  for  years  to  come  ?  Men 
women,  and  children,  all  ran  forward!  Pitchforks' 
stones,  pickaxes,  shovels,  all  and  everything  was  turned 
mto  arms  and  used  for  slaughter.  It  was  a  real  battue 
or  wolves ! 

The  veins  in  the  veteran's  forehead  swelled,  his  cheeks 
grew  scarlet,  as  this  trait  of  popular  heroism  recalled  to 
him  the  sublime  ardour  of  the  republican  wars,  — those 
levies  en  masse  in  which  his  earliest  scenes  of  military 
lire  had  passed. 

The  orphans,  the  daughters  of  a  warrior  and  a  high- 
spirited  mother,  were  excited  by  these  energetic  words, 
and,  instead  of  being  intimidated  by  their  roughness, 
their  hearts  beat  high  and  their  cheeks  became  flushed 

"  What  happiness  for  us  to  be  the  daughters  of  so  brave 
a  father  !    exclaimed  Blanche. 

"  What  happiness,  and  what  good  fortune,  my  children, 
tor,  on  the  evening  after  the  fight  of  Montmirail,  the  em- 
peror, to  the  joy  of  the  whole  army,  created  your  father 
on  the  field  of  battle  Duke  of  Montmirail  and  Marshal 
or  France  ! " 

«  Marshal  of  France  !  "  said  Rose,  amazed,  and  hardly 
understanding  the  purport  of  these  words. 

«  Duke  of  Montmirail !  "  added  Blanche,  equally  sur- 
prised. ^  J 

"  Yes,  Pierre  Simon,  the  workman's  son,  a  duke  and 
marshal !  He  could  not  be  higher  unless  he  was  a  king  " 
continued  Dagobert,  with  pride.  «  That's  the  way  the 
emperor  treated  the  sons  of  the  people,  and  so  the  people 

91 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


were  always  for  him.  It  was  no  use  for  any  to  say, '  Ah, 
but  your  emperor  only  considers  you  as  food  for  powder  ! ' 
4  Pooh  !  why,  another  would  make  of  us  food  for  misery/ 
replied  the  people,  who  are  no  fools.  4  I  prefer  gun- 
powder and  the  chance  of  being  a  captain,  colonel, 
marshal,  king,  —  or  invalid  ;  that's  better  than  starving 
with  want,  cold,  or  old  age,  on  dirty  straw  in  an  old 
garret,  after  having  toiled  uselessly  forty  years  for  other 
people.' " 

"  What,  in  France  —  in  Paris  —  in  that  beautiful 
city,  are  there  miserable  creatures  who  die  of  want 
and  misery,  Dagobert?" 

"  Yes,  even  in  Paris,  my  dears,  there  is  want  and 
misery  ;  but  I  will  leave  that  now.  I  like  gunpowder 
better,  for  with  that  one  has  the  chance  of  being  made 
a  peer  or  a  marshal,  like  your  father.  When  I  say  peer 
and  marshal,  I  am  right  and  I  am  wrong,  for  afterwards 
he  was  not  known  by  that  title  and  rank ;  because,  after 
Montmirail,  there  was  a  day  of  deep  mourning,  very 
deep,  on  which  old  soldiers  like  me,  and  the  generals, 
have  wept  —  yes,  wept,  —  the  evening  of  that  battle  — 
of  that  day,  my  dears,  called  Waterloo." 

There  was  in  the  simple  words  of  Dagobert  an  accent 
of  sorrow  so  deep  that  the  orphans  trembled  at  its 
expression. 

"  There  are,"  resumed  the  soldier,  with  a  deep  sigh, 
"  days  accursed  as  these.  This  day,  at  Waterloo,  the 
general  fell,  covered  with  wounds,  at  the  head  of  a  divi- 
sion of  the  guard.  After  a  long  time  he  was  cured,  and 
requested  leave  to  go  to  St.  Helena,  another  island  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  world,  where  the  English  had  sent 
the  emperor  to  torture  him,  at  their  ease ;  for  if  he  was 
fortunate  at  first,  he  suffered  a  great  deal  of  misery  in 
his  after  life,  my  poor  dears." 

"  Oh,  Dagobert,  how  sad !    You  make  us  weep." 

"  And  there's  reason  for  tears.  The  emperor  endured 
so  much,  —  so  srery  much.    His  heart  bled  cruelly,  — 

92 


THE  TRAVELLER. 


but  it's  over.  Unfortunately  the  general  was  not  with 
him  at  St.  Helena,  or  he  would  have  been  one  more  to 
console  him ;  they  would  not  let  him  go.  Then  he,  ex- 
asperated, like  many  more,  against  the  Bourbons,  organ- 
ised a  conspiracy  to  recall  the  emperor's  son.  He  was 
anxious  to  gain  over  a  regiment  composed  almost  entirely 
of  old  soldiers  devoted  to  him.  He  went  into  a  city  of 
Picardy,  in  which  this  garrison  was  stationed,  but  the 
conspiracy  had  been  discovered.  At  the  moment  when 
the  general  arrived  there,  he  was  arrested  and  led  before 
the  colonel  of  the  regiment ;  and  this  colonel,"  said  the 
veteran,  after  a  minute's  silence,  —  "  do  you  know  who 
he  was  ?  But,  bah  !  It  is  too  long  a  story  to  tell  now, 
and  would  only  sadden  you.  Well,  then,  it  was  a  man 
whom  your  father  had  long  had  reason  to  hate  heartily. 
Well,  they  were  face  to  face,  and  the  general  said, '  If  you 
are  not  a  coward,  you  will  put  me  at  liberty  for  one  hour, 
and  we  will  fight  till  one  falls,  for  I  hate  you  for  that, 
I  despise  you  for  the  other,  and  still  more  for  this.'  The 
colonel  accepted  the  offer,  and  released  your  father  until 
the  next  morning,  when  there  was  a  bloody  duel,  the  end 
of  which  was  that  the  colonel  was  left  for  dead  on  the 
plain." 

"  Ah,  mon  Lieu  !  " 

"  The  general  was  wiping  his  sword,  when  a  friend 
stepped  up  and  told  him  that  he  might  yet  escape.  He 
did  so,  and  fortunately  got  out  of  France  ;  yes,  fortu- 
nately, for  fifteen  days  afterwards  he  was  condemned  to 
death  as  a  conspirator." 

"  Oh,  Heaven,  what  misfortunes  ! " 

"  There  was  good  fortune  in  this  misfortune.  Your 
mother  kept  firmly  to  her  promise,  and  was  constantly 
expecting  him.  She  had  written  to  him  to  say,  <  The 
emperor  first  and  me  afterwards  ! '  As  he  could  no  longer 
do  anything  either  for  the  emperor  or  his  son,  the  general, 
exiled  from  France,  reached  Warsaw.  Your  mother's 
parents  had  just  died ;  she  was  therefore  free,  and  they 

93 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


were  married,  and  I  am  one  of  the  witnesses  of  their 
marriage." 

"  You  are  right,  Dagobert ;  that  was  really  good  for- 
tune amidst  misfortune." 

"  Well,  at  last  they  were  happy  ;  but,  like  all  noble 
hearts,  the  happier  they  were  themselves,  the  more  they 
pitied  the  miseries  of  others,  —  and  there  was  much  to 
pity  in  Warsaw.  The  Russians  were  again  beginning 
to  treat  the  Poles  as  slaves,  and  your  dear  mother, 
although  of  French  origin,  was  yet  a  Pole  in  heart 
and  feeling.  She  boldly  said  out  what  others  dared  not 
even  whisper,  and  the  unhappy  called  her  their  good 
angel,  and  that  was  enough  to  draw  upon  her  the  sus- 
picious eye  of  the  Russian  governor.  One  day  a  colonel 
of  the  lancers,  a  friend  of  the  general's,  a  brave  and 
worthy  man,  was  condemned  to  exile  in  Siberia,  for  a 
military  conspiracy  against  the  Russians.  He  escaped, 
and  your  father  gave  him  shelter.  This  was  discovered, 
and  during  the  next  night  a  body  of  Cossacks,  led  by  an 
officer  and  followed  by  a  post  carriage,  came  to  our 
door,  surprised  the  general  in  bed,  and  carried  him 
off." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !    What  did  they  do  with  him  ?  " 

"  Conduct  him  out  of  Russia,  with  a  peremptory  order 
never  again  to  set  foot  in  it  under  pain  of  imprisonment 
for  life.  His  last  words  were, '  Dagobert,  I  trust  to  your 
keeping  my  wife  and  child  ; '  for  your  mother  was  expect- 
ing your  birth  soon  after.  Well,  in  spite  of  that  she  was 
exiled  to  Siberia.  It  was  an  opportunity  for  getting  rid 
of  her,  —  she  did  so  much  good  in  Warsaw  that  they  were 
afraid  of  her.  Not  content  with  exile,  they  confiscated 
all  her  property.  The  only  favour  they  would  grant  was 
that  I  should  accompany  her ;  and  had  it  not  been  for 
Jovial,  whom  the  general  had  allowed  me  to  retain,  she 
would  have  been  forced  to  make  the  journey  on  foot. 
Well,  in  this  way,  she  on  the  horse,  and  I  walking'  by 
her  side,  as  I  do  by  yours,  my  darlings,  we  reached,  three 

94 


THE  TRAVELLER. 


months  after,  a  miserable  village,  in  which  you  were 
born, —  poor  little  things !  " 
"  And  our  father  ? " 

"  He  dared  not  return  into  Russia,  and  it  was  impos- 
sible for  your  mother  to  fly  with  two  children,  and 
equally  impossible  for  the  general  to  write  to  her,  be- 
cause he  did  not  know  where  she  was." 

"  And  did  you  never  hear  from  him  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dears,  once  we  heard  —  " 

"  What,  and  by  whom  ? " 
^  After  a  moment's  silence,  Dagobert  replied,  with  a 
singular  expression  of  countenance  : 

"  By  whom  ?  Why,  by  one  who  did  not  resemble 
other  men  —  yes  —  and  that  you  may  understand  what 
I  say,  I  must  tell  you,  as  briefly  as  I  can,  an  extraordi- 
nary adventure  which  happened  to  your  father  during 
a  campaign  in  France.  He  had  received  from  the 
emperor  an  order  to  storm  a  battery  which  was  dealing 
heavy  destruction  in  our  lines.  After  many  unsuccess- 
ful attempts,  the  general,  heading  a  regiment  of  cuiras- 
siers^ dashed  at  the  battery,  according  to  his  usual 
practice,  and  cut  down  the  men  at  their  very  guns.  He 
found  himself  on  his  horse  exactly  before  the  mouth  of 
a  cannon,  of  which  rll  the  artillery-men  were  killed  or 
wounded;  one,  however,  had  strength  enough  to  raise 
himself  and  hold  out  his  slow-light  to  the  touch-hole  of 
the  piece,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  general  was  only 
ten  paces  from  the  mouth  of  the  gun." 

"  G-rand  Dieu,  what  danger  our  father  was  in  !  " 

"  Never,  as  he  told  me,  was  he  in  greater  peril,  for 
the  moment  he  saw  the  artillery-man  fire  the  gun,  it 
went  off ;  but  at  that  very  moment  a  tall  man,  dressed 
like  a  countryman,  and  whom  your  father  had  not 
before  remarked,  threw  himself  before  the  cannon's 
mouth  —  " 

"  Ah,  wretched  man  !    What  a  horrid  death !  " 
"Yes,"  said  Dagobert,  pensively.    "That  ought  to 

95 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


have  happened  —  he  should  have  been  shattered  into  a 
thousand  bits  —  yet  he  was  not  — " 
"  What  say  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  general  told  me,  i  At  the  moment  when 
the  gun  fired,'  he  has  often  repeated,  '  by  a  movement  of 
involuntary  horror  I  closed  my  eyes,  that  I  might  not 
see  the  mutilated  carcass  of  the  wretched  individual 
sacrificed  in  my  place.  When  I  opened  them,  what 
should  I  see,  in  the  midst  of  the  smoke,  but  this  tall 
individual,  standing  erect  and  quite  calm  on  the  same 
spot,  casting  a  sad  but  sweet  smile  on  the  artillery-man, 
who,  with  one  knee  on  the  ground,  his  body  half  recum- 
bent, looked  at  him  with  as  much  fear  as  if  he  had  been 
the  devil  himself ;  then  the  battle  raging  hotly,  it  was 
impossible  for  me  again  to  find  this  man,'  added  your 
father." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !    Dagobert,  is  this  possible  ? " 

"  That's  what  I  inquired  of  the  general.  He  replied 
that  he  never  could  explain  this  singular  fact  to  his  satis- 
faction. Your  father  was  much  struck  by  the  features 
of  this  man,  who  appeared,  as  he  told  me,  about  thirty 
years  of  age,  with  very  black  eyebrows,  which  united  in 
the  centre  of  his  forehead,  making,  as  it  were,  only  one 
large  brow  from  one  temple  to  the  other,  so  that  his 
forehead  appeared  as  if  it  was  stamped  with  a  black 
semicircle.  Remember  this,  my  dears,  you  will  know 
why  presently." 

"  Yes,  Dagobert,  we  will  not  forget  it,"  said  the 
astonished  girls.  "  How  very  strange,  a  man  with  his 
forehead  encircled  with  a  black  ray." 

"  Listen  now.  The  general  had  been,  I  told  you,  left 
for  dead  at  Waterloo.  During  the  night,  which  he 
passed  on  the  field  of  battle  in  a  sort  of  delirium,  caused 
by  the  fever  of  his  wounds,  there  seemed  to  appear  to 
him,  in  the  moonlight,  the  same  man,  who  leaned  over 
him,  contemplating  his  features  with  great  tenderness 
and  sorrow,  and  who,  stanching  the  blood  of  his  wounds, 

96 


THE  TRAVELLER. 


did  all  in  his  power  to  recover  him.  And  as  your  father, 
whose  senses  were  wandering,  repulsed  him  and  refused 
his  care,  saying  that,  after  such  a  disastrous  defeat,  there 
was  nothing  left  him  but  to  die,  it  seemed  to  him  this 
person  said,  <  You  must  live  for  Eva's  sake  ! '  That  was 
your  mother's  name,  —  your  mother,  whom  the  general 
had  left  at  Warsaw,  to  rejoin  the  emperor,  and  with  him 
once  more  enter  on  a  campaign  for  France." 

"  How  very  strange,  Dagobert !  and  did  our  father  ever 
see  that  man  again  ?  " 

"  He  did.  It  was  he  who  brought  the  general's  letters 
and  messages  to  your  poor  mother." 

"  When  could  that  have  been  ?    We  never  saw  him." 

"  Do  you  recollect  that  on  the  morning  of  your  dear 
mother's  death  you  had  gone  with  old  Fedora  to  the 
forest  of  pines  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  replied  Rose,  mournfully,  "  we  had  accom- 
panied Fedora  to  search  for  a  particular  sort  of  moss 
our  mother  used  to  be  so  fond  of." 

"Dear  mother,"  murmured  Blanche,  her  soft  eyes 
filling  with  tears,  "  who  could  have  anticipated  when  we 
quitted  her  so  well  in  the  morning  the  dreadful  blow 
we  were  to  experience  that  very  night !  " 

"  Who,  indeed,  my  child  ?  As  for  me,  on  that  very 
morning  I  was  at  work  in  the  garden  singing  my  merriest 
song,  and  as  little  dreaming  of  trouble  or  sorrow  as  your- 
selves, when  suddenly  I  heard  a  voice  behind  me  inquire 
in  French,  'Is  this  the  village  of  Milosk?'  I  turned 
hastily  around  and  perceived  a  stranger  standing  before 
me.  Instead  of  replying  to  his  question,  I  looked  stead- 
fastly at  him  and  retreated  several  steps  in  utter  sur- 
prise and  astonishment." 

"  And  wherefore  were  you  so  startled  ?  " 

"  The  individual  was  of  immense  height,  very  pale, 
with  a  high,  expansive  forehead  ;  his  thick  black  eyebrows 
had  grown  together  so  as  to  shade  his  countenance  with 
one  dark,  gloomy  semicircle." 

97 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  This  was  doubtless  the  same  person  who  had  twice 
stood  beside  our  father  during  the  battles  he  was 
engaged  in ! 99 

"  The  very  same  !  " 

"But  tell  me,  Dagobert,"  said  Rose,  thoughtfully, 
"  how  long  is  it  since  these  battles  took  place  ?  " 
"  About  sixteen  years  !  " 

"And  this  stranger  whose   appearance  so  greatly 
astonished  you,  —  about  how  old  was  he  ?  " 
"  Scarcely  thirty  years  !  " 

"  Then  how  could  he  possibly  be  the  same  man  who, 
sixteen  years  previously,  had  fought  in  the  same  cam- 
paign as  our  father  ?  " 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Dagobert,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders ;  "  I  must  have  been  deceived  by  some  passing 
resemblance  —  yet  —  " 

"At  least,  if  it  were  really  the  person  you  imagined, 
his  age  must  have  stood  still  all  those  years,  and  that  is 
quite  impossible." 

<<  But  did  you  not  ask  him  if  he  were  the  very  same 
individual  who  had  formerly  succoured  our  parent  ?  " 

"  In  my  first  confusion  of  ideas  I  did  not  think  of  it; 
and  he  stayed  so  very  short  a  time  that  I  had  no  further 
opportunity  of  so  doing.  He  again  inquired  for  the 
village  of  Milosk. 

"  '  You  are  there  at  present,'  replied  I,  6  but  how  did 
you  discover  I  was  a  Frenchman  ? ' 

"  £  By  hearing  you  sing  as  I  passed  by  this  garden,' 
answered  he ;  6  but  can  you  tell  me  where  Madame 
Simon,  wife  to  the  general  of  that  name,  resides  ? ' 

"  '  This  is  her  house,  sir  ! ' 

"  Evidently  perceiving  the  surprise  his  visit  occasioned 
me,  he  surveyed  me  for  several  minutes  in  silence,  then, 
holding  out  his  hand  to  me,  he  said : 

"  6  You  are  the  friend  of  General  Simon,  —  I  may  say 
his  best  friend  !  " 

"  You  may  judge,  my  children,  of  the  utter  amaze- 

98 


THE  TRAVELLER. 


merit,  I  experienced  at  finding  a  mere  stranger  so  well 
informed  on  such  matters ;  at  length  I  managed  to 
exclaim : 

"  <  And  how  know  you  this,  sir  ? ' 

" 6  From  frequently  hearing  the  general  speak  of  you 
in  terms  of  grateful  recollection.' 

"  <  You  have  then  seen  the  general  ? ' 

"  4  I  knew  him  long  since  in  India ;  and  am  equally 
with  yourself  his  friend.  I  have  constantly  been  em- 
ployed by  him  to  convey  his  letters,  etc.,  to  his  lady,  of 
whose  exile  in  Siberia  I  was  perfectly  aware.  At  To- 
bolsk I  learned  that  she  inhabited  this  village.  Have 
the  goodness  to  conduct  me  to  her  at  once.'  " 

"  Kind  traveller,  how  I  love  him  !  "  said  Rose. 

"For  he  was  our  dear  father's  friend,"  added 
Blanche. 

«  I  begged  him  to  wait  a  few  minutes  while  I  apprised 
your  mother  of  his  proposed  visit,  fearing  any  sudden 
surprise  might  be  injurious  to  her.  Five  minutes  after- 
wards he  was  admitted  into  her  presence." 

"  And  how  was  this  traveller  dressed,  Dagobert  ? 
What  sort  of  person  was  he  ? " 

«  Very  tall,  with  long  black  curling  hair.  He  wore  a 
dark  travelling  cloak,  with  a  similar  cap." 

"  And  was  he  handsome  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  children,  extremely  so ;  but  the  expression 
of  his  countenance,  though  kind  and  gentle,  had  a  grief- 
worn  look  that  cut  me  to  the  heart." 

"  Poor  man !  Some  severe  trouble,  —  some  incurable 
affliction,  no  doubt !  " 

"  Your  mother  remained  closeted  with  him  for  some 
time,  when  she  summoned  me  to  say  she  had  received 
favourable  tidings  from  the  general.  She  was  in  tears, 
and  had  before  her  a  large  packet  of  papers,  forming  a 
species  of  journal.  The  general  was  in  the  habit  of 
writing  to  her  nearly  every  evening  to  console  her  for 
their  separation.    Unable   to  converse  with   her,  he 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

poured  out  on  paper  all  he  would  have  said  had  she 
been  present." 

"  And  where  are  these  papers,  Dagobert  ? " 

"  There,  in  my  wallet,  with  my  cross  and  our  purse  — 
one  of  these  days  I  will  give  them  to  you.  I  have 
merely  taken  out  a  few  leaves  which.  I  will  read  to 
you  directly.  You  will  see  then  why  I  have  selected 
them." 

"  Was  our  father  long  in  India  ?" 

"  From  the  little  your  mother  told  me  it  appears  that 
the  general  had  gone  thither  after  having  fought  with 
the  Greeks  against  the  Turks,  — for  he  ever  loved  to 
side  with  the  weak  and  oppressed  against  the  strong. 
Upon  his  arrival  in  India,  he  commenced  a  bitter  strife 
against  the  English,  who  had  massacred  our  countrymen 
when  prisoners  of  war,  and  held  our  emperor  in  bondage 
at  St.  Helena.  This  was  a  legitimate  war ;  and  while 
wreaking  his  vengeance  on  a  nation  he  detested,  he  was 
enabled  to  assist  a  good  cause." 

"  How,  Dagobert  ?    What  cause  could  he  befriend  ?  " 

"  That  of  one  of  the  tributary  petty  princes  of  India, 
then  ravaged  by  the  English  without  the  slightest  pre- 
text to  cover  their  unjust  invasion.  Here,  again,  you 
see,  my  children,  your  noble  father  acted  upon  his  favour- 
ite impulse,  that  of  protecting  the  weak  from  the  tyranny 
of  the  strong  ;  and  in  a  very  short  space  of  time  he  had 
so  well  disciplined  and  instructed  the  twelve  or  fifteen 
thousand  men  who  composed  the  troops  of  the  Indian 
sovereign  that  they  gained  two  decisive  victories  over 
their  invaders,  the  English,  who,  but  for  his  timely 
interposition,  would  —  But  stay,  a  few  pages  from  his 
journal  will  tell  you  more  and  better  than  I  can.  Be- 
sides, you  will  then  read  a  name  you  must  never  forget ; 
and  for  that  reason  I  have  selected  this  passage." 

"  Oh?  what  happiness !  "  exclaimed  Rose  "  to  be  able 
to  read  the  very  words  traced  by  our  dear  parent's 
hand ;  it  is  almost  the  same  as  though  he  spoke  to  us." 

100 


THE  TRAVELLER. 


"  As  though  he  were  beside  us,"  added  Blanche, 
tenderly. 

So  speaking,  both  sisters  eagerly  extended  their  hands 
to  receive  the  papers  Dagobert  drew  from  his  pocket. 

Then,  as  if  influenced  by  a  simultaneous  burst  of  filial 
reverence,  they  each  silently  kissed  the  handwriting  of 
their  father. 

"  You  will  perceive,  my  children,  in  perusing  these 
pages,  why  it  was  I  felt  so  much  surprise  when  you  told 
me  that  your  guardian  angel,  who  has  visited  you  in 
your  dreams,  was  named  Gabriel.  But  read,  —  read," 
continued  the  soldier,  observing  the  astonished  looks  of 
the  sisters.  "  Only,  I  ought  to  tell  you  beforehand, 
that  when  your  father  wrote  these  lines  he  had  not  then 
encountered  the  individual  who  was  the  bearer  of  these 
papers  to  your  mother." 

Rose,  sitting  up  in  her  bed,  took  the  leaves  and  com- 
menced reading  in  a  soft  and  tremulous  voice. 

While  Blanche,  her  head  reclining  on  her  sister's 
shoulder,  listened  with  profound  attention,  the  motion 
of  her  lips  evincing  how  closely  she  followed  each  sound, 
and  that  she,  too,  read  mentally. 


101 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


FEAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL. 

"Bivouac  of  the  Mountains  of  Ava, 
"  20th  February,  1830. 

"  Each  time  that  I  add  to  the  sheets  of  my  journal, 
now  written  in  the  upper  part  of  India,  where  my  fate' 
and  wandering  destiny  have  thrown  me,  —  a  journal 
which,  perhaps,  thou,  my  ever  loved  Eva,  mayst  never 
read,  —  I  experience  sensations  so  painful,  yet  so  dear 
to  me;  for  it  is  a  consolation  thus  to  commune  with 
thee,  dearest,  and  yet  my  regrets  are  never  more  bitter 
than  when  I  thus  speak  to,  but  do  not  see,  thee. 

"  If  ever  these  pages  shall  come  before'  thine  eyes,  thy 
generous  heart  will  beat  at  the  name  of  that  intrepid 
being  to  whom  I  owe  my  life,  to  whom  I  shall,  perhaps, 
owe  the  happiness  of  one  day  again  beholding  thee  and 
our  child,  —  for  it  lives,  does  it  not,  —  our  dear  child  ? 
I  must  hope  so,  for  else,  dear  wife,  what  must  be  your 
life,  spent  in  lonely  exile  ?  Dear  angel,  it  must  be  now 
fourteen  years  of  age.  Who  is  it  like  ?  To  thee,  dearest, 
is  it  not?  It  has,  I  know,  thy  large  and  lovely  blue 
eyes.  Fool  that  I  am !  How  many  times  in  this  long 
journal  have  I  not  already  asked  this  question,  to  which 
thou  canst  not  reply  ?  How  many  times  ?  And  yet,  I 
shall  again  do  so.  Thou  must  teach  our  child  to  pro- 
nounce and  love  the  name,  however  strange,  of  Djalma." 

"  Djalma !  "  said  Rose,  who,  with  moistened  eyes, 
interrupted  the  reading. 

102 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL. 


"  Djalma !  "  replied  Blanche,  who  shared  her  sister's 
emotion  ;  "  oh,  we  shall  never  forget  this  name." 

"  And  you  will  be  right,  my  children ;  for  it  seems  it 
is  that  of  a  soldier,  very  famous  though  very  young.  Go 
on,  my  little  Rose." 

Rose  resumed : 

66 1  have  told  you,  dearest  Eva,  in  the  preceding  sheets, 
of  the  two  good  days  which  we  had  during  this  month. 
The  troops  of  my  old  friend,  the  Indian  prince,  improv- 
ing daily  in  their  European  discipline,  have  done  wonders. 
We  have  driven  back  the  English,  and  compelled  them 
to  evacuate  a  part  of  this  unhappy  country,  invaded  by 
them  in  contempt  of  all  right,  all  justice ;  and  which 
they  have  ravaged  most  mercilessly,  for  here  English 
warfare  is  only  in  other  words  treason,  pillage,  and 
massacre.  This  morning,  after  a  forced  march  through 
rivers  and  over  mountains,  we  learn  by  our  spies  that 
reinforcements  had  reached  the  enemy,  who  was  prepar- 
ing to  assume  the  offensive.  They  were  only  a  few 
leagues  off,  and  an  engagement  was  inevitable.  My  old 
friend,  the  Indian  prince,  the  father  of  my  preserver, 
was  eager  for  the  onset.  The  affair  began  at  three 
o'clock,  and  was  fierce  and  bloody.  As  I  saw  a  moment 
of  indecision  in  our  lines,  for  we  were  much  inferior  in 
numbers,  and  the  English  reinforcements  were  quite 
fresh,  I  charged  at  the  head  of  our  small  body  of 
cavalry. 

"  The  old  prince  was  in  the  centre,  fighting,  as  he 
always  fights,  most  valorously.  His  son,  Djalma,  hardly 
eighteen  years  of  age,  and  as  brave  as  his  father,  was  at 
my  side,  when,  in  the  hottest  of  the  fight,  my  horse  was 
killed  under  me,  and  rolled  with  me  down  a  bank,  on 
the  edge  of  which  we  were  at  the  moment,  and  I  was  so 
completely  under  him,  that,  for  an  instant,  I  fancied  my 
thigh  was  broken." 

"  Poor  father !  "  said  Blanche. 

"  Fortunately,  this  time  nothing  serious  did  happen  to 

103 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


him,  thanks  to  Djalma.  You  see,  Dagobert,  I  remember 
the  name,"  remarked  Rose,  who  then  continued : 

"  The  English,  thinking  that  if  they  killed  me  (very 
nattering  for  me)  they  should  easily  subdue  the  prince's 
army,  an  officer  and  five  or  six  irregular  soldiers  — 
brutal  and  cowardly  robbers  —  seeing  me  roll  down 
the  ravine,  rushed  after  to  slay  me.  In  the  midst 
of  the  fire  and  smoke,  our  gallant  fellows  had  not  seen 
my  fall ;  but  Djalma  never  quitted  me,  and,  leaping  down 
the  bank  to  my  rescue,  by  his  calm  intrepidity  saved  my 
life.  With  one  of  the  double  barrels  of  his  carbine,  he 
laid  the  officer  dead,  and  with  the  other  broke  the  arm 
of  the  miscreant  who  had  stabbed  my  left  hand  with  his 
bayonet ;  but  my  Eva  need  not  feel  alarm,  it  is  only  a 
scratch  —  " 

"  Wounded  —  wounded  again!  Mm  Dieuf"  cried 
Blanche,  clasping  her  hands,  and  interrupting  her  sister. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  Dagobert;  "  it  was  only  a 
scratch,  as  the  general  said.  He  used  to  call  the  wounds 
which  did  not  prevent  him  from  fighting  '  white  wounds.' 
He  always  found  out  the  right  word  for  everything." 

"  Djalma  seeing  me  wounded,"  continued  Rose,  wiping 
her  eye,  "  used  his  heavy  carbine  for  a  club,  and  drove 
back  my  assailants,  when,  at  this  moment,  I  saw  a  fresh 
adversary  concealed  behind  a  clump  of  bamboos,  which 
commanded  the  ravine,  who,  placing  the  barrel  of  his 
long  fusil  between  two  branches,  blowed  in  his  slow- 
light,  and  took  deliberate  aim  at  Djalma,  and  the  brave 
youth  received  a  ball  in  his  chest,  before  my  cries  could 
put  him  on  his  guard.  Feeling  himself  struck,  he 
retreated,  in  spite  of  himself,  for  two  paces,  and  fell  on 
his  knee,  but  still  keeping  erect,  and  trying  to  make  for 
me  a  rampart  of  his  body.  Conceive  my  rage,  my 
despair !  Unfortunately  my  efforts  to  disengage  myself 
were  paralyzed  by  the  excruciating  agony  which  I  expe- 
rienced in  my  thigh.  Powerless  and  weaponless,  I 
looked  for  some  moments  at  this  unequal  conflict. 

104 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL. 


"  Djalma  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  blood,  his  arm  grew 
weak,  and  one  of  the  skirmishers,  encouraging  the 
others  with  his  voice,  took  from  his  belt  a  large  and 
heavy  axe,  which  would  decapitate  a  man  at  a  single 
blow,  when,  at  the  moment,  a  dozen  of  our  men  reached 
the  spot.  Djalma  was  delivered  in  his  turn,  and  they 
disengaged  me.  At  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I 
was  able  to  mount  another  horse,  and  we  eventually 
gained  the  day,  though  with  immense  loss.  To-morrow 
the  affair  must  be  decisive,  for  I  can  see  the  fires  of  the 
English  bivouac  from  this  spot.  Thus  my  Eva  will  see 
how  I  am  indebted  for  life  to  this  youth.  Fortunately, 
his  wound  is  harmless,  the  ball  having  glanced  along  his 
ribs." 

"  The  brave  lad  would  say,  with  the  general,  <  Only  a 
white  wound,'  "  said  Dagobert. 

"  Now,  my  beloved  Eva,"  Rose  read  on,  "  you  must 
know,  by  my  recital,  the  intrepid  Djalma,  who  is  scarcely 
eighteen  years  of  age,  —  in  one  word,  I  will  paint  to  you 
his  noble  and  courageous  nature;  in  his  country  they 
sometimes  bestow  surnames,  and,  from  fifteen  years  old, 
he  has  been  called  6  the  Generous.'  Generous,  indeed,  in 
heart  and  soul.  By  another  custom  of  the  country,  as 
peculiar  as  it  is  touching,  this  surname  has  ascended  to 
his  father,  who  is  termed  <  the  Father  of  the  Generous  ; ' 
and  he  might  well  be  styled  the  Just,  for  the  old  Indian 
is  a  rare  specimen  of  chivalrous  loyalty  and  proud  inde- 
pendence. He  might,  as  so  many  other  poor  princes  in 
this  land  have  done,  humble  himself  to  the  dust  before 
the  execrable  English  despotism,  treat  for  the  sale  of 
his  sovereignty,  and  surrender  to  force ;  but  no  —  'My 
whole  right,  or  a  ditch  in  the  mountains  where  I  was 
born,'  —  such  is  his  motto.  It  is  not  boasting,  it  is  the 
consciousness  of  what  is  right  and  just.  <  But  you  will 
be  ground  to  powder  in  the  struggle,'  I  have  said  to  him. 
His  reply  was,  6  My  friend,  if  to  compel  you  to  a  dis- 
graceful action  you  were  told  to  yield  or  die?'  From 

105 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


this  day  I  fully  understood  his  character,  and  have 
devoted  myself,  body  and  soul,  to  the  cause  —  the 
sacred  cause  —  of  the  weak  against  the  strong.  You 
see,  my  Eva,  that  Djalma  is  worthy  of  such  a  sire.  This 
young  Indian's  courage  is  so  heroic,  so  intense,  that  he 
fights  like  a  young  Greek  in  the  age  of  Leonidas,  with  a 
bare  breast,  while  the  other  soldiers  of  his  country,  who 
in  time  of  peace  have  the  shoulders,  arms,  and  breasts 
uncovered,  put  on  a  thick  war-coat  when  they  go  to 
battle.  The  rash  intrepidity  of  this  youth  reminds  me 
of  the  King  of  Naples,  of  whom  I  have  often  spoken  to 
you,  and  whom  I  have  seen  a  hundred  times  charge  at 
the  head  of  his  troops  with  no  other  arms  in  his  hand 
than  a  riding-whip." 

"  Ah !  he  is  one  of  those  I  told  you  of,"  said  Dago- 
bert,  "  and  with  whom  the  emperor  amused  himself  in 
making  him  a  king.  I  saw  a  Prussian  officer,  a  prisoner, 
whose  face  the  King  of  Naples  had  marked  in  his  rage 
with  his  whip.  It  was  black  and  blue.  The  Prussian 
swore  an  oath,  and  said  he  was  dishonoured,  and  that  he 
would  rather  have  had  a  sabre-cut.  I  believe  him.  That 
devil  of  a  monarch  —  he  only  knew  one  way  of  doing 
business,  that  was  to  march  straight  up  to  the  cannon. 
As  soon  as  a  cannonade  began,  he  declared  that  it  called 
him  by  all  his  names,  and  ran  up  to  it,  saying,  <  Here  I 
am.'  If  I  speak  of  him  to  you,  my  dears,  it  is  because 
he  often  said,  <  No  one  can  cut  through  a  square  that 
bids  defiance  to  General  Simon  or  myself.' " 

Rose  proceeded : 

"I  have  remarked,  with  pain,  that,  in  spite  of  his 
youth,  Djalma  often  had  fits  of  deep  melancholy. 
Sometimes  I  have  detected  between  him  and  his 
father  singular  looks,  and,  in  spite  of  our  mutual 
regard,  I  believe  that  they  keep  from  me  some  painful 
family  secret,  if  I  may  judge  from  a  few  words  which 
at  times  escape  from  them,  and  which  I  believe  involves 
some  singular  event,  to  which  their  imaginations,  natu- 

106 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL. 


rally  excited  and  romantic,  have  given  a  supernatural 
character. 

"  But  you  know,  my  love,  that  we  ourselves  have  lost 
the  right  of  ridiculing  the  credulity  of  any  persons,  —  I, 
since  my  campaign  in  France,  wherein  that  very  singular 
adventure  occurred  to  me,  which  mystery  I  have  never 
been  able  to  solve." 

"  He  means  of  the  man  who  threw  himself  before  the 
mouth  of  the  cannon,"  said  Dagobert. 

"  And  you,"  the  young  girl  resumed  her  perusal,  "  my 
Eva  dear,  since  the  visits  of  that  young  and  lovely 
woman,  whom  your  mother  said  she  had  seen  at  her 
mother's  forty  years  previously." 

The  orphans  looked  at  the  soldier  with  astonishment. 

"  Your  mother  never  mentioned  that  to  me,  nor  the 
general  either ;  it's  as  strange  to  me  as  to  you." 

Rose  resumed,  with  much  emotion  and  increasing 
curiosity : 

"  After  all,  my  dear  Eva,  things  often  very  extraordi- 
nary in  appearance  are  explained  by  some  chance,  some 
resemblance,  or  some  caprice  of  nature.  The  marvellous 
being  always  only  some  optical  illusion,  or  the  result  of 
an  imagination  already  deeply  impressed,  the  time  comes 
when  that  which  seemed  superhuman  or  supernatural 
turns  out  an  event  the  most  probable  and  explicable  in 
the  world ;  and  so  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  what  we 
call  our  prodigies  will,  one  day  or  other,  come  before 
us  fully  and  naturally  explained." 

"  You  see,  my  children,  that  what  at  first  is  wonder- 
ful is  afterwards  very  simple,  though  that  does  not 
prevent  us  from  being  a  long  time  before  we  find  out  its 
meaning." 

"  As  our  father  says  so,  we  must  believe  it,  and  not 
be  surprised,  must  we  not,  sister  ?" 

"  Of  course,  because,  some  day  or  other,  it  will  be  all 
explained." 

"  Now,"  said   Dagobert,  after   brief   reflection,  "  a 

107 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


comparison.  You  two  are  so  alike,  you  know,  that 
any  one  who  was  not  in  the  habit  of  seeing  you  every 
day  would  easily  mistake  one  for  the  other.  Well,  if  he 
did  not  know  —  if  I  may  say  so  —  that  you  were  double, 
only  see  how  astonished  he  would  be.  I  am  quite  sure 
that  he  would  think  the  devil  was  in  it,  apropos  of  good 
little  angels  as  you  are." 

"You  are  right,  Dagobert ;  and  in  this  way,  as  our 
father  says,  many  things  may  be  accounted  for."  And 
Rose  continued : 

"  My  dear  Eva,  it  is  with  no  little  pleasure  that  I  find 
that  Djalma  has  French  blood  in  his  veins;  his  father 
married,  many  years  ago,  a  young  girl  whose  family,  of 
French  extraction,  was  long  settled  in  Batavia,  in  the 
isle  of  Java.  This  similarity  of  position  between  my  old 
friend  and  myself  has  made  our  friendship  the  more 
close ;  for  your  family  also,  Eva,  is  of  French  descent, 
and  long  since  established  in  a  strange  land.  Unfortu- 
nately, the  prince,  some  years  since,  lost  the  wife  he 
adored. 

"  Alas,  my  beloved,  my  hand  trembles  as  I  write.  I 
am  weak  —  I  am  a  child  —  my  heart  is  wounded,  broken. 
If  such  a  misfortune  should  occur!  Oh,  Heaven  !  and 
our  child,  what  would  become  of  it  without  you  —  with- 
out me  —  in  that  barbarous  clime?  No,  no,  the  fear 
is  absurd ;  but  what  horrid  torture  is  uncertainty ! 
Where,  then,  are  you  ?  What  are  you  doing  ?  What 
has  become  of  you  ?  Forgive  these  gloomy  thoughts, 
which  come  over  me  so  often  in  spite  of  myself! 
Cheerless  moments  —  desolate  —  for,  when  they  come, 
I  say,  4 1  am  a  proscribed  man,  unhappy;  but  still,  at 
least  at  the  farther  end  of  the  world,  there  are  two 
hearts  that  still  beat  for  me,  thine,  my  Eva,  —  and  that 
of  our  child  ! ' " 

Rose  could  hardly  complete  these  last  words,  her  voice 
was  almost  choked  with  her  sobs. 

There  was,  in  truth,  a  sad  coincidence  between  the 

108 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL. 


fears  of  the  general  and  the  mournful  reality ;  and  what 
could  be  more  affecting  than  these  remarks,  written 
on  the  eve  of  a  battle,  by  the  light  of  the  bivouac  fire, 
by  a  soldier,  who  thus  sought  to  allay  the  anguish  of  a 
separation  so  painful,  but  which,  at  the  moment,  he  did 
not  know  to  be  eternal  ? 

"  Poor  general !  he  did  not  know  our  misfortune," 
said  Dagobert,  after  a  moment's  silence ;  "  and  neither 
did  he  know  that,  instead  of  one  child,  he  has  two,  — 
that  will  be  some  comfort  to  him ;  but  now,  Blanche, 
do  you  go  on  reading,  I  fear  your  sister  will  be  tired. 
She  is  too  much  excited,  and,  besides,  it  is  only  right 
that  you  should  share  the  pleasure  and  the  pain  of  the 
reading." 

Blanche  took  the  letter,  and  Rose,  wiping  her  eyes, 
which  overflowed  with  tears,  leaned  in  her  turn  her 
lovely  head  on  her  sister's  shoulder,  who  thus  pro- 
ceeded : 

"  I  am  calmer  now,  my  loved  one.  I  ceased  to  write 
for  a  moment.  I  have  driven  my  dark  thoughts  away, 
and  let  us  resume  our  conversation. 

"  After  having  so  much  at  length  discoursed  to  you 
of  India,  I  will  say  a  word  or  two  of  Europe.  Yesterday 
evening  one  of  our  men,  a  safe  hand,  came  to  our 
advanced  post;  he  brought  me  a  letter  from  France, 
which  had  been  forwarded  to  Calcutta.  I  have  news 
from  my  father,  and  my  uneasiness  is  removed.  This 
letter  is  dated  in  August  last,  and  I  find  that  many 
letters  are  lost  or  miscarried,  for,  during  nearly  two 
years  I  have  not  had  one,  and  was,  therefore,  deeply 
anxious  about  him.  Excellent  father,  always  the  same, 
—  age  has  not  weakened  his  energetic  mind;  and  his 
health  is  as  robust  as  ever,  he  tells  me.  He  is  still  a 
mechanic,  and  rejoices  in  it  as  much  as  ever ;  always 
faithful  to  his  strong  republican  bias,  and  full  of  hope 
yet ;  <  for,'  said  he,  4  the  time  is  at  hand,'  and  these  last 
words  were  underlined.    He  also  gave  me,  as  you  will 

109 


THE  WAXDERIXG  JEW. 


see,  excellent  accounts  of  the  family  of  our  s:ood.  faithful 
friend  and  follower,  Dagobert. 

_  «  Believe  me.  dearest  Eva.  it  is  a  considerable  diminu- 
tion of  my  grief  to  reflect  that  you  have  so  true  and 
devoted  a  man  near  you.  for  well  I  know  that  he  would 
never  forsake  you  in  your  exile.  What  sterling  worth 
lies  hid  beneath  his  rough  exterior  ;  a  heart  pure  and 
valuable  as  gold,  yet  firm  and  unbending  as  iron.  I  can 
suppose  how  tenderly  he  loves  our  child !  " 

While  this  passage  was  being  read.  Dagobert  was 
suddenly  seized  with  a  most  unusual  attack  of  coughing, 
occasionally  looking  down  and  searching  most  diligently 
for  a  small  checked  pocket-handkerchief,  which"  hap- 
pened at  that  very  moment  to  be  lying  across  his  knees. 
He  remained  in  his  stooping  position  for  some  brief 
space,  then,  recovering  himself,  commenced  stroking  his 
moustache. 

"  How  well  our  dear  father  understood  and  appreciated 
you !  " 

"  And  how  rightly  he  foresaw  how  tenderlv  vou  would 
love  us ! " 

"  Enough,  enough  !  Dear  children,  don't  let  us  sav  anv 
more  about  that ;  but  go  on  to  where  vour  father*  (the 
general)  mentions  my  little  Agricola  and  Gabriel,  the 
adopted  son  of  my  wife  —  dear  wife,  when  I  think  that 
perhaps  ere  three  months—  But  proceed,  mv  dear 
children^  Read,  read,"  added  the  soldier,  striving  to 
repress  his  emotion. 

"  Spite  of  myself,  dear  Eva.  I  cherish  the  hope  that 
these  pages  will  one  day  reach  you.  and  with  that  idea 
I  shall  write  what  I  think  may  also  be  interesting  to 
our  good  Dagobert,  and  I  know  well  how  delighted  he 
will  be  to  receive  tidings  of  his  family.  My  father,  who 
still  superintends  the  business  of  his  worthy  employer, 
M.  Hardy,  informs  me  that  this  latter  has  taken  Dago- 
bert's  son  into  his  workshop,  and  Agricola  is  emploved 
under  the  immediate  superintendence  of  my  father,  who  is 

110 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL. 


delighted  with  his  skill  and  docility.  He  speaks  of  him 
as  an  amiable  and  clever  youth,  who  makes  no  more  of 
the  heavy  tools  required  in  his  work  than  he  would 
of  using  a  child's  toy.  As  light-hearted  as  industrious 
and  intelligent,  he  bids  fair  to  become  the  head  work- 
man in  the  establishment.  Yet,  after  his  day's  toil  is 
over,  his  great  delight  is  to  return  to  his  adored  mother, 
and,  sitting  by  her  side,  compose  verses  and  patriotic 
songs  of  extraordinary  merit ;  indeed,  the  rich  vein  of 
poetry  which  runs  through  these  productions,  combined 
with  the  purity  and  sublimity  of  the  expressions,  have 
caused  them  to  become  exclusively  the  songs  sung  by 
all  the  workmen  in  the  workshops  of  Paris ;  and  well 
are  they  calculated  to  touch  the  coldest  hearts,  and  by 
their  stirring  energy  to  rouse  and  excite  even  the  weak 
and  timid  to  virtuous  deeds." 

"  Oh,  how  proud  you  must  be  of  such  a  son,  Dago- 
bert ! "  said  Rose,  her  sweet  face  beaming  with  admira- 
tion ;  "  he  composes  songs,  you  see." 

"  Yes,  it  is  indeed  a  fine  thing  to  hear  all  this ;  but 
what  principally  delights  me  is  to  learn  how  much  he 
loves  his  mother,  and  that  he  is  skilful  and  strong  in 
the  management  of  heavy  tools.  Ah,  only  a  man 
capable  of  making  the  iron  ring  well  on  the  anvil  could 
have  had  the  soul  to  write  such  beautiful  songs  as 
the  4  Reveil  du  Peuple '  and  4  La  Marseillaise  ! '  but  where 
Agricola  picked  it  all  up  is  more  than  I  can  think.  I 
dare  say,  though,  he  learned  all  those  sort  of  fine  things 
at  the  school  where,  as  you  will  find,  he  went  with  his 
adopted  brother,  Gabriel." 

At  this  name,  which  recalled  to  the  sisters  the 
imaginary  being  they  styled  their  guardian  angel,  their 
curiosity  was  deeply  excited,  and  Blanche,  with  redoubled 
attention,  read  as  follows : 

"  Agricola's  adopted  brother,  the  poor  deserted  child 
so  generously  protected  by  the  wife  of  our  excellent 
Dagobert,  is,  I  am  told,  the  most  perfect  contrast  to 

111 


THE  WAXPERIXG  JEW. 


himself,  not  as  regards  the  goodness  of  his  heart  for  in 
that  respect  the  youths  are  equal,  but  in  character  and 
disposition.  Agricola  is  endowed  with  the  most  buoyant 
gaiety  and  unfailing  flow  of  spirits,  ever  in  action."  and 
prompt  to  create  and  participate  in  all  mirthful  pastimes 
while  —  while  Gabriel  is  melancholy  and  thoughtful' 
-My  father  further  adds,  you  may  read  in  the  counte- 
nances of  these  youths  the  faithful  index  of  their 
opposite  characters.  Agricola  is  tall  and  muscular 
his  fine  dark  complexion  beaming  with  health  and 
manly  courage.  Gabriel,  on  the  contrary,  has  a  thin, 
slight  figure,  by  no  means  indicative  of  health  or 
strength.  He  has  the  delicate  complexion  and  soft 
hair  of  a  woman,  and  his  timid,  gentle  manner 
gives  an  almost  angelic  sweetness  to"  his  whole  ap- 
pearance." 

The  orphans  surveyed  each  other  in  utter  amazement; 
then  turning  their  ingenuous  looks  towards  DagoberL 
Rose  exclaimed : 

*Why,  Dagobert,  this  is  precisely  the  descrip- 
tion of  our  Gabriel.  Yours  has  fair  features,  light 
curling  locks,  and  the  look  of  an  amrel.—  so  has 
ours." 

Yes.  yes,  the  resemblance  is  perfect :  and  that  was 
the  cause  of  my  being  so  astonished  when  you  related 
to  me  your  dream. n 

«  Are  you  sure  he  had  blue  eyes  ?  n  inquired  Rose. 

<*As  for  that,  my  child,  though  the  general  says 
nothing  about  it,  I  should  say  he  certainlv  had,  for 
I  believe  all  very  fair  people  do  have  blue  eyes; 
however,  black  or  blue,  he  must  not  use  them  to  ad- 
mire young  girls  — wherefore,  you  will  find  out  as  you 
proceed." 

Blanche  resumed : 

-The  almost  supernaturally  angelic  expression  of 
Gabriel's  countenance  attracted  the^  attention  of  a  holy 
brother  in  one  of  our  public  schools,  which,  in  company 

112 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL. 


with  Agricola  and  the  children  of  the  neighbourhood,  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  attending.  This  holy  man  mentioned 
him  to  a  high  dignitary  of  the  church,  who  had  sufficient 
interest  to  place  him  in  one  of  our  seminaries,  and  it  is 
now  more  than  two  years  since  he  took  the  vows  of  the 
order.  He  is  intended  to  be  sent  abroad  as  a  mission- 
ary, and  will,  ere  long,  depart  for  America." 

"  Then  your  Gabriel  is  a  monk,"  said  Rose,  looking  at 
Dagobert,  somewhat  dismayed. 

"  And  ours  is  an  angel !  "  added  Blanche. 

"  Which  certainly  proves  that  your  Gabriel  holds  a 
higher  rank  than  mine.  Well,  every  one  to  their  choice  ! 
but  I  am  very  glad  it  was  not  my  boy  took  a  fancy  to  a 
priest's  coat.  I  would  rather  a  thousand  times  see  my 
Agricola's  muscular  frame  clad  in  a  workman's  dress,  a 
leathern  apron  tied  before  him,  and  his  brawny  arm 
wielding  a  hammer,  after  the  fashion  of  your  venerable 
grandfather,  my  children,  and  the  parent  of  Marshal 
Simon,  Duke  de  Ligny ;  for,  after  all,  the  general  holds 
that  rank,  through  the  emperor's  own  creation.  Now 
conclude  your  manuscript." 

"  Thus,  therefore,  my  tender  Eva,  should  this  journal 
ever  reach  you,  you  will  have  the  gratification  of  tran- 
quillising  Dagobert  as  to  the  present  prospects  of  his 
wife  and  son,  whom  he  quitted  to  serve  and  assist  us. 
How  shall  I  ever  repay  so  great  a  sacrifice  ?  But  he  is 
with  you,  and  well  I  know  your  noble  and  generous  heart 
will  try  hard  to  devise  some  adequate  mode  of  acquitting 
our  heavy  debt  of  gratitude. 

"  Again,  and  again,  adieu,  Eva,  best  beloved  !  For  one 
instant  I  quitted  my  journal  to  visit  the  tent  of  Djalma. 
I  found  him  sleeping  peacefully,  his  father  watching 
beside  him.  A  single  gesture  made  by  the  anxious 
parent  sufficed  to  convince  me  no  further  alarm  was 
entertained  for  the  safety  of  the  intrepid  young  man. 
May  he  be  equally  preserved  from  the  perils  of  the 
approaching  fight.     Farewell,  my  tender  wife !  The 

113 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


night  is  calm  and  still ;  one  by  one  the  watch-fires  burn 
out  and  become  gradually  extinct ;  our  brave  mountain- 
eers repose  after  the  fearful  combat  of  yesterday,  and  no 
sound  is  heard  but  the  distant  call  of  our  sentinels  ;  their 
words,  as  they  strike  on  my  ear,  uttered  in  the  language 
of  their  country,  recall  me  from  my  temporary  delusion, 
and  remind  me  of  what,  when  thus  conversing  with  you, 
I  entirely  forgot,  namely,  that  oceans  divide  us, —  that  I 
am  far,  far  from  you  and  our  child.  Beloved  beings, 
what  is  your  present  condition  ?  What  will  your  future 
destiny  be  ?  Ah  !  could  I  but  convey  to  you  that  medal 
I  so  unfortunately  brought  away  with  me  from  Warsaw, 
perhaps  you  might  obtain  permission  to  proceed  with  it 
to  France,  or,  at  least,  to  send  your  child  thither  with 
Dagobert;  for  you  know,  well  know,  the  importance 
attached  to  it ;  but  why  add  this  vexation  to  the  many 
troubles  which  already  oppress  us  ?  Unfortunately,  years 
are  rolling  on ;  the  fatal  day  will  arrive,  and  the  last  hope 
to  which  I  cling  will  be  taken  from  me. 

"  But  I  will  not  end  this  day  mournfully.  Once  more, 
my  Eva  !  —  my  love  !  —  my  wife  !  —  farewell !  Press  our 
infant  to  your  heart,  and,  while  you  cover  it  with  kisses, 
say  that  they  come  from  an  adoring,  though  exiled 
husband  and  father,  who  would  peril  his  life  to  bestow 
them  himself  on  his  loved  ones. 

"  Till  the  termination  of  to-morrow's  conflict,  adieu ! 
adieu ! " 

A  long  silence  succeeded  the  perusal  of  this  touching 
paper,  the  tears  of  the  sisters  alone  faintly  breaking  the 
stillness  which  prevailed;  while  Dagobert,  leaning  his 
head  on  his  hand,  was  lost  in  deep  and  painful 
meditation. 

The  wind  increased  in  violence,  and  blew  in  gusts 
along  the  old  passage,  while  the  otherwise  profound  quiet 
which  prevailed  in  the  inn  was  broken  only  by  the  heavy 
drops  of  rain  which  descended  in  torrents  and  pattered 
against  the  window-panes. 

114 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL. 

While  the  daughters  of  General  Simon  were  occupied 
in  the  affecting  task  of  reading  these  fragments  from 
their  father's  journal,  a  strange  and  mysterious  scene 
was  passing  within  the  menagerie  belonging  to  Morok, 
the  brute-conqueror. 


115 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE  CAGES. 

Morok  had  armed  himself.  Over  his  vest  of  chamois 
leather  he  had  put  on  his  coat  of  mail ;  a  tissue  of  steel, 
as  flexible  as  linen,  and  as  hard  as  adamant.  He  had 
buckled  his  cuishes  on  his  thighs,  his  greaves  upon  his 
legs,  his  brassards  on  his  arms,  and  covered  his  feet  with 
iron-plate  shoes ;  concealing  all  this  defensive  attire 
with  a  long  and  loose  pantaloon,  and  an  ample  pelisse 
carefully  buttoned  up,  whilst  in  his  hand  he  bore  a  long 
rod  of  iron,  heated  in  the  fire,  and  held  by  its  wooden 
handle. 

Although  his  tiger  Cain,  his  lion  Judas,  and  his  black 
panther  La  Mort  had  long  since  been  subdued  by  his 
address  and  energy,  yet  at  times  these  brutes,  in  a  fit  of 
anger,  would  try  their  teeth  and  nails  upon  him ;  but 
thanks  to  the  armour  which  his  pelisse  covered,  they  had 
but  struck  their  nails  on  a  surface  of  steel,  blunted  their 
teeth  on  arms  or  legs  of  iron,  whilst  a  slight  shake  of  the 
metal  rod  of  their  master  made  their  hides  smoke  and 
shrivel  up,  thus  furrowed  by  a  deep  and  smarting  burn. 

Finding  that  their  bites  were  useless,  these  animals, 
whose  memories  are  vastly  retentive,  understood  that 
henceforward  it  were  vain  to  try  their  claws  and  teeth 
on  an  invulnerable  being.  So  greatly  did  their  crouching 
submission  increase  that,  in  their  public  displays,  their 
master,  at  the  least  movement  of  a  small  cane,  covered 
with  flame-coloured  paper,  made  them  shrink  and  cringe 
at  his  feet  in  an  agony  of  fear. 

116 


THE  CAGES. 


The  prophet,  carefully  armed,  and  holding  in  his 
hand  the  rod  heated  by  Goliath,  descended  the  trap  of 
the  garret,  which  was  over  the  large  shed  in  which  the 
cages  of  his  animals  were  placed.  A  thin  partition  of 
planks  separated  this  shed  from  the  stable  in  which, 
were  the  horses  of  the  tamer  of  beasts. 

A  reflecting  light  threw  its  full  beams  over  these  cages. 
They  were  four  in  number. 

A  grating  of  iron,  tolerably  wide,  was  around  the  sides. 
On  one  side  this  grating  turned  on  hinges  like  a  door, 
so  that  the  animals  which  they  enclosed  could  come  out. 
The  floors  of  these  cages  were  on  axle-trees  and  four 
small  iron  wheels,  so  that  they  were  thus  easily  drawn 
to  the  large  covered  van  in  which  they  were  placed  dur- 
ing their  journeys.  One  of  these  was  empty,  the  three 
others  were  closed,  and  in  them,  as  we  know,  were  a 
panther,  a  tiger,  and  a  lion. 

The  panther  was  from  Java,  and  seemed,  by  its  lower- 
ing and  savage  look,  to  deserve  its  name  of  La  Mort. 

Completely  black,  it  remained  coiled  up  into  the 
smallest  compass  at  the  farther  end  of  its  cage.  The 
colour  of  its  skin  was  mingled  with  the  obscurity  that 
surrounded  it,  so  that  its  shape  could  not  be  made  out, 
and  only  two  burning  and  fixed  fires  could  be  seen, — 
two  large  eye-balls  of  a  phosphorescent  yellow,  which 
only  shone  out  at  night ;  for  all  the  animals  of  the  feline 
genus  see  perfectly  only  at  night,  or  in  the  midst  of 
darkness. 

The  prophet  had  entered  the  stable  very  silently, 
the  deep  red  of  his  pelisse  contrasting  with  the  light  and 
yellow  hue  of  his  straight  hair  and  long  beard.  The 
lamp  was  so  placed  that  it  completely  lighted  up  the 
man,  and  the  breadth  of  its  beams,  contrasted  with 
the  darkness  of  the  shadow,  brought  out  more  fully  the 
prominent  features  of  his  harsh  and  bony  countenance. 

He  approached  slowly  towards  the  cage. 

The  white  ring,  which  encircled  his  glaring  eyeball, 

117 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


seemed  to  expand,  whilst  his  eye  rivalled,  in  brilliancy 
and  fixedness,  the  glaring  and  steadfast  gaze  of  the 
panther. 

Though  crouching  in  the  darkness,  she  yet  felt  the 
influence  of  her  master's  commanding  look,  and  twice  or 
thrice  closed  her  eyelids  hastily,  uttering  an  angry  but 
low  growl ;  then  her  eyes,  reopening  in  spite  of  herself, 
became  immovably  fixed  on  those  of  the  prophet. 

Then  the  round  ears  of  La  Mort  fell  back  on  her  neck, 
flattened  like  that  of  a  snake,  the  skin  of  her  forehead 
wrinkled  convulsively,  while  she  drew  up  her  nostrils, 
covered  with  long  bristles,  and  twice  silently  opened  her 
wide  jaw,  armed  with  formidable  fangs. 

At  this  moment  a  kind  of  magnetic  sympathy  seemed 
to  be  carried  on  between  the  look  of  the  man  and  the 
beast. 

The  prophet  stretched  towards  the  cage  his  rod  of 
heated  steel,  and  said,  in  a  harsh  and  imperious  tone : 
"  La  Mort,  come  hither !  " 

The  panther  arose,  but  crouched  so  greatly  that  her 
belly  and  hocks  still  dragged  along  the  floor.  She  was 
three  feet  high,  and  nearly  five  feet  long,  her  chine  was 
supple  and  fleshy,  her  hams  as  lengthy  and  as  deep  as 
those  of  a  race-horse,  her  chest  wide,  her  shoulders  broad 
and  projecting,  her  paws  flat  and  strongly  nerved,  —  all 
evincing  that  this  formidable  beast  united  strength  with 
suppleness  and  vigour  with  activity. 

Morok,  with  his  rod  of  iron  extended  towards  the 
cage,  made  a  step  towards  the  panther. 

The  panther  made  a  step  towards  the  prophet. 

He  paused. 

La  Mort  paused  likewise. 

At  this  moment  the  tiger  Judas,  who,  as  Morok  stood, 
was  behind  him,  as  though  jealous  of  the  notice  bestowed 
by  his  master  on  the  panther,  uttered  a  furious  growl ; 
and,  throwing  back  his  head,  displayed  his  formidable 
triangular  jaw  and  deep-set,  powerful  chest  of  dusky 

118 


THE  CAGES. 


white,  whence  arose  the  first  shades  of  tawny,  mingled 
with  black,  which  constituted  the  colour  of  his  coat.  His 
tail,  like  a  huge  copper-coloured  serpent,  marked  with 
clear  black  rings,  was  sometimes  passively  folded  against 
its  flanks,  at  others  employed  in  furiously  lashing  them 
with  a  slow  and  continued  movement,  while  his  green 
transparent  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  prophet. 

Such  was  the  influence  possessed  by  this  man  over  the 
animals,  that  Judas,  at  a  glance  from  his  master,  ceased 
his  roaring,  and  quailed  in  profound  submission  to  his 
will ;  no  trace,  save  his  loud  and  panting  respiration, 
bearing  evidence  of  his  recent  daring  attempt  at  insub- 
ordination. 

Morok,  who,  at  his  wrathful  cry,  had  instantly  turned 
towards  him,  examined  him  with  steady  attention  for 
several  moments.  Immediately  the  animal  felt  himself 
relieved  from  the  controlling  power  of  the  prophet's  eye, 
he  returned  to  the  darkest  corner  of  his  cage,  and  quietly 
laid  himself  down. 

A  crackling  noise,  at  once  sharp  and  grating,  similar 
to  that  made  by  beasts  when  gnawing  hard  substances, 
now  arose  in  the  lion's  den,  and  attracted  thither  by  the 
uncommon  sound,  Morok  quitted  the  tiger,  and  proceeded 
to  investigate  the  cause  of  the  noise,  as  well  as  the  na- 
ture of  Cain's  employment. 

Nothing  but  the  huge,  tawny  head  of  the  animal  was 
visible ;  his  hind  quarters  were  bent  under  him,  and  his 
immense  mane  hung  over  his  glowing  eyes ;  but  by  the 
working  and  tension  of  his  muscles  with  the  strain  of 
his  vertebrae,  it  was  evident  he  was  making  violent  use 
of  his  jaws  and  fore  paws. 

The  prophet's  mind  misgave  him,  and  he  approached 
the  cage  in  utter  alarm,  lest,  contrary  to  his  express 
command,  Goliath  should  have  given  the  beast  food,  the 
bones  of  which  he  was  then  gnawing.  To  ascertain  this 
point  he  went  close  to  the  den,  and  exclaimed,  in  a 
sharp,  decisive  tone : 

119 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Cain  ! " 

Cain  did  not  move. 

"  Cain  !  I  say  !  Come  hither  !  "  again  cried  Morok,  in 
a  still  louder  voice  ;  but  with  no  better  success.  The 
lion  stirred  not,  and  the  grinding  noise  still  went  on. 

"  Cain  !  Here  !  Instantly  !  "  summoned  the  prophet  a 
third  time ;  but  as  he  spoke,  he,  on  this  third  appeal  to 
his  attention,  applied  his  rod  of  hot  steel  to  the  flanks 
of  the  animal. 

Scarcely  had  a  light  smoke  issued  from  the  scorched 
sides  of  the  creature,  than,  with  a  spring  of  inconceivable 
quickness,  he  flew  to  the  bars  of  his  cage ;  not  merely 
rushing  thither,  but  flying  with  one  bound,  and  so  stand- 
ing, and  almost  erect,  he  surveyed  his  tormentor  with  an 
air  of  majestic  grandeur  and  ineffable  rage. 

The  prophet  stood  at  the  corner  of  the  cage,  and 
Cain,  in  his  fury,  and  with  the  desire  of  facing  his 
master,  had  presented  his  side  against  the  bars,  through 
which  he  thrust  his  enormous  fore  paw  up  to  the  shoulder  ; 
the  limb  still  quivering  with  his  recent  exertions,  and 
exhibiting  a  contour  that,  for  strength  and  size,  might 
have  vied  even  with  the  herculean  proportions  of  the 
giant  Goliath  himself. 

"  Down,  Cain !  Down ! "  said  the  prophet,  eagerly 
approaching  him ;  but  the  furious  beast  refused  com- 
pliance ;  his  lips,  drawn  back  in  utter  rage,  displayed 
fangs  as  long  and  formidable  as  those  of  the  wild  boar. 

Again  Morok  applied  his  wand  of  burning  iron  to  the 
lips  of  Cain ;  and  this  time,  agonised  by  the  acute  pain 
produced  by  burning  so  sensitive  a  part,  and  intimidated 
by  the  eye  and  voice  of  his  master,  the  lion  offered  no 
further  opposition ;  his  loud  roaring  ceased  and  subsided 
into  a  menacing  growl,  while  his  huge  body,  as  though 
utterly  deprived  of  all  power  of  resistance,  sunk  into  an 
attitude  of  submission  and  dread. 

Morok  lowered  his  lantern,  in  order  to  discover  what 
had  so  recently  occupied  the  beast,  when  he  perceived 

120 


THE  CAGES. 


that  he  had  torn  up  one  of  the  planks  from  the  bottom 
of  his  den,  and  had  been  trying  to  appease  his  hunger 
by  grinding  it  to  pieces  between  his  huge  jaws. 

For  several  instants  the  most  profound  silence  reigned 
in  the  menagerie.  The  prophet,  with  his  hands  behind 
him,  passed  from  cage  to  cage,  observing  the  animals 
with  a  perplexed,  yet  earnest,  gaze,  as  though  hesitating 
how  to  make  a  difficult  and  important  choice.  From 
time  to  time  he  stopped  at  the  door,  looking  out  on  the 
inn  yard,  and  listened  attentively. 

In  a  few  minutes  it  was  hastily  opened,  and  Goliath 
reappeared,  the  wet  streaming  from  his  garments. 

«  Well !  "  said  the  prophet. 

"  I  have  had  trouble  enough ! "  answered  the  giant. 
"  However,  luckily,  the  night  is  as  dark  as  pitch,  and  it 
blows  and  rains  enough  to  kill  a  fellow ! " 

"  Do  they  suspect  anything  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  not,  master !  No,  you  have  laid  your 
plan  too  well.  There  is  a  cellar  just  under  the  room 
where  these  young  girls  are  put  to  sleep ;  and  the  door 
of  that  cellar  opens  out  on  the  fields.  When  you 
whistled  to  let  me  know  it  was  time,  I  went  out, 
carrying  a  high  stool,  which  I  placed  against  the  wall, 
and  stood  upon  it ;  that,  with  my  own  height,  made  me 
at  least  nine  feet,  so  that  I  could  lean  upon  the  window- 
frame.  I  held  the  blind  in  one  hand,  and  my  knife  in 
the  other ;  and,  when  I  had  broken  two  squares  of  glass, 
I  slammed  the  blind  as  hard  as  I  could." 

"  And  they  fancied  it  was  the  wind  ? " 

"  Yes,  they  so  considered  it.  There,  you  see,  one  is 
not  quite  such  a  fool  as  you  might  suppose.  Well,  when 
I  had  done  my  job,  I  made  all  the  haste  I  could  back 
into  the  cellar,  taking  my  stool  with  me.  In  a  little 
while  I  heard  the  old  man's  voice ;  so  it  was  well  I  had 
been  so  quick." 

"  When  I  whistled,  he  had  just  gone  to  his  supper.  I 
did  not  expect  he  would  so  soon  have  finished  it." 

121 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Oh,  he  isn't  the  sort  of  man  to  be  long  eating  his 
supper,"  replied  the  giant,  contemptuously.  "  Well,  soon 
after  the  old  soldier-man  had  gone  to  the  young  girls' 
room,  and  found  out  about  the  glass  being  broken,  he 
opened  the  window,  and  called  his  dog,  saying,  <  Seize 
him  !  Hold  him  ! '  So  I  took  care  to  shut  myself  tight 
inside  the  cellar,  for  if  that  cursed  dog  had  got  hold 
of  me,  he  would  have  split  my  windpipe  with  his 
fangs." 

"  You  need  have  no  further  fears  of  the  dog,  he  is 
safe  in  the  stable  with  the  horse  ;  but  go  on." 

"  When  I  heard  the  shutter  and  window  shut  again,  I 
came  forth  from  the  cellar ;  and,  putting  my  trestle  as 
before,  I  got  on  it  once  more ;  and,  turning  the  fasten- 
ing of  the  shutter  gently,  I  opened  it.  But  the  two 
broken  panes  of  glass  had  been  filled  up  with  the  skirts 
of  the  pelisse,  so  I  could  only  hear,  and  not  see  anything. 
Well,  then,  I  moved  the  cloak  a  little  and  saw  the  young 
wenches  on  the  bed  with  their  faces  towards  me,  and  the 
old  fellow  sitting  at  the  foot  of  the  couch  with  his  back 
to  me  —  " 

"And  the  bag  —  his  bag?  That  is  the  important 
thing." 

"  His  bag  was  near  the  window  on  a  table  beside  a 
lamp.  I  could  have  touched  it  by  stretching  out  my 
arm." 

"  What  did  you  hear  ?  " 

"  As  you  told  me  not  to  attend  to  anything  but  the 
bag,  I  only  remember  about  the  bag,  and  the  old  fellow 
said  that  his  papers,  the  general's  letters,  his  money,  and 
his  cross  were  in  it." 

«  Good.    What  then  ?  " 

"  As  it  was  difficult  to  hold  the  pelisse  from  the  hole 
in  the  window,  it  fell  out  of  my  hand.  I  tried  to  take  it 
up  again,  and  put  my  hand  so  far  through  the  window 
that  one  of  the  girls  saw  it,  and  shrieked  out,  pointing 
to  the  window." 

122 


THE  CAGES. 


"  Cursed  wretch !  All  is  a  failure,"  exclaimed  the 
prophet,  pale  with  rage. 

"Listen,  all  is  not  a  failure.  When  I  heard  her 
scream,  I  jumped  down  from  my  trestle,  and  again  hid 
myself  in  the  aperture  under.  The  dog  was  no  longer 
there.  I  left  the  door  half  open.  Then  I  heard  the 
window  open,  and  saw  by  the  reflection  that  the  old 
fellow  was  holding  a  lamp  out  of  the  window.  He 
looked  about  him  ;  but  not  seeing  any  ladder,  as  the 
window  was  too  high  for  any  man  of  ordinary  stature 
to  reach  up  to  —  " 

"  He  thought  it  was  the  wind,  as  he  did  before.  You 
are  not  so  stupid  as  I  thought." 

"  The  wolf  has  become  a  fox,  as  you  said  when  I  found 
out  where  the  bag,  the  money,  and  the  papers  were.  As 
I  could  not  do  any  more  for  the  present,  I  thought  it 
best  to  come  to  you.    So  here  I  am." 

"  Go  in  the  loft  and  find  me  the  longest  ashen  pike." 

"  Yes,  master." 

"  And  the  red  woollen  blanket." 
"  Yes,  master." 
"  Be  gone." 

Goliath  mounted  the  ladder,  and  when  he  had  reached 
midway  stopped. 

"  Master,  mayn't  I  bring  down  a  bit  of  meat  for  La 
Mort  ?  You'll  see  she'll  owe  me  a  spite ;  she'll  lay 
it  all  to  me.  She  never  forgets,  and  at  the  first 
opportunity  —  " 

"  The  pike  and  the  blanket ! "  replied  the  prophet,  in 
a  commanding  tone. 

Whilst  Goliath  mutteringly  executed  his  behests,  Morok 
gently  opened  the  door  of  the  shed,  and,  looking  out  into 
the  courtyard,  again  listened. 

"  Here  are  the  pike  and  blanket,"  said  the  giant, 
coming  down  the  ladder  with  them.  "  What  am  I  to 
do  next?" 

"Return  to  your  aperture,  get  up  again  to  the 

123 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


window,  and  when  the  old  man  rushes  hastily  out  of 
the  chamber  —  " 

"  Who'll  make  him  rush  out  ? " 

"  He  will  go  out.    The  how  is  no  affair  of  yours." 

"  Well ;  and  then  ? " 

"  You  told  me  the  lamp  was  near  the  window.'' 

"  Quite  near ;  and  the  table  close  to  the  bag." 

"  As  soon  as  the  old  man  leaves  the  room,  push  the 
window,  knock  over  the  lamp,  and  if  you  then  succeed 
in  doing  quickly  and  cleverly  what  remains  to  be  done 
—  the  ten  florins  are  yours.  You  remember  all  I  told 
you  ? " 

"  I  do,  I  do." 

"  The  girls  will  be  so  frightened  by  the  noise  and  the 
darkness  that  they  will  remain  dumb  with  fear." 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  the  wolf  has  become  a  fox,  he 
will  be  a  serpent." 

"  This  is  not  all." 

"  What  more  ?  " 

"  The  roof  of  the  shed  is  not  high,  the  skylight  in  the 
loft  is  easily  reached,  the  night  is  dark,  and  so,  instead 
of  returning  by  the  door  —  " 

"I  am  to  get  in  by  the  skylight  ?  " 

"  And  without  a  sound." 

"  Like  a  real  serpent."    And  the  giant  left  the  stable. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  prophet,  after  a  silence  of  some  time ; 
"  my  means  are  sure,  and  I  will  no  longer  hesitate. 
Blind  and  obscure  tool ;  I  know  not  the  motives  of  the 
instructions  I  have  received ;  but  after  the  orders  which 
accompany  them,  and  the  position  in  which  he  is  who 
sends  them  to  me,  doubtless  some  most  important  inter- 
ests are  involved.  Interests,"  he  continued,  after  an- 
other pause,  "  which  affect  all  that  is  greatest  —  most 
exalted  in  the  world !  But  how  can  these  two  young 
girls,  almost  beggars,  —  how  can  this  miserable  old 
soldier  represent  or  be  connected  with  such  interests  ? 
No  matter,"  he  added,  with  humility,  "  I  am  the  arm 

124 


THE  CAGES. 


which  acts,  it  is  for  the  head  that  thinks  and  orders  to 
be  responsible  for  its  works." 

The  prophet  then  left  the  shed,  taking  in  his  hand  the 
blanket,  and  directed  his  steps  towards  Jovial's  little 
stable.  The  shattered  door  was  hardly  kept  closed  by 
the  hasp. 

At  the  sight  of  a  stranger  Killjoy  sprang  at  him,  but 
his  teeth  only  met  with  greaves  of  iron ;  and,  in  spite  of 
the  dog's  bites,  the  prophet  took  Jovial  by  his  halter, 
and,  having  tied  his  head  up  in  the  blanket,  that  he 
might  neither  see  nor  smell,  he  led  him  out  of  the  stable 
a,nd  conducted  him  to  the  interior  of  his  menagerie,  the 
door  of  which  he  fastened. 


125 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  SURPRISE. 

Having  thus  completed  the  perusal  of  their  father's 
journal,  the  orphans  remained  for  some  time  mournfully 
and  silently  contemplating  the  precious  document,  the 
leaves  of  which  were  already  discoloured  and  soiled 
by  age  ;  while  Dagobert,  absorbed  in  fond  anticipation  of 
shortly  meeting  the  beloved  wife  and  son  from  whom  he 
had  been  so  long  separated,  sat  buried  in  many  a  fond 
reverie  of  domestic  bliss. 

The  soldier  was  the  first  to  break  the  deep  silence 
which  for  several  minutes  prevailed  in  the  little  cham- 
ber ;  taking  the  manuscript  from  the  hands  of  Blanche, 
and  carefully  folding  it,  he  returned  it,  with  all  the  rev- 
erence due  to  so  sacred  a  relic,  to  the  pocket  from  which 
he  had  taken  it,  saying  to  the  sisters : 

"  Take  heart,  my  children,  and  let  the  recollection  of 
your  brave  father  rouse  you  to  bear  your  present  trials 
with  courage.  Remember  you  are  the  daughters  of  a 
brave  man,  and  must  not  disgrace  him  by  cowardly 
shrinking  from  what  is  before  you ;  let  the  dear  hope 
of  shortly  embracing  him  drive  away  all  grief  and 
sorrow ;  and,  above  all,  never  forget  the  name  of  that 
worthy  friend  to  whom  you  will  owe  this  happiness, 
for,  had  not  Djalma  saved  his  life,  you  would  indeed  be 
orphans." 

"  Fear  not,  Dagobert,"  answered  Rose,  "  we  can  never, 
never,  cease  to  think  of  that  revered  name,  while  we  are 
spared  the  use  of  our  memory." 

126 


THE  SURPRISE. 


"And  when  our  Gabriel,  our  guardian  angel,  again 
visits  us,"  added  Blanche,  "  we  will  pray  of  him  to  take 
Djalma  also  under  his  charge." 

"  Good,  my  children  !  "  replied  Dagobert ;  "lam  quite 
sure  that  you  will  do  all  that  affection  and  duty  require. 
But,  to  return  to  the  traveller  who  so  unexpectedly  vis- 
ited your  mother  in  Siberia.  He  Jiad  seen  your  father 
a  month  after  the  facts  you  have  just  read  had  occurred, 
and  again  previously  to  the  general's  setting  out  to  open 
a  fresh  campaign  against  the  English ;  upon  the  latter 
occasion  it  was  that  your  father  confided  to  him  these 
papers  and  medal." 

"  But  Dagobert,  can  you  tell  us  what  is  the  use  of  this 
medal?" 

"And  what  do  the  words  inscribed  on  it  mean?" 
pursued  Rose,  drawing  it  from  her  bosom.1 

"  Why,  it  means  exactly  this,  —  that  we  must  be,  with- 
out fail,  in  Paris,  No.  3  Rue  St.  Francois,  on  the  thirteenth 
of  February,  1832." 

"  But  wherefore  ?  " 

"  The  suddenness  of  the  attack  which  carried  off  your 
dear  mother  prevented  her  informing  me,  and  all  I  know 
is  that  this  medal  had  been  handed  down  to  her  from 
her  family,  in  whose  possession  it  had  been  for  more 
than  a  hundred  years." 

"  And  how  did  our  father  become  possessed  of  it  ? " 

"Among  the  various  articles  hastily  put  into  the 


1  Victime 
de 

L.  C.  D.  J. 
Priez  pour  moi. 


A  Paris, 
Rue  Saint  Francis,  No.  13. 
Dans  un  siecle  et  demi 
vous  serez. 
Le  13  Fevrier,  1832. 


Le  13  Fevrier,  1682. 


Priez  pour  moi. 


Translated  thus. 


Translated  thus. 


Victim 
of 

L.  C.  D.  J. 
Pray  for  me. 


13  St.  Francis  Street, 
In  a  century  and  a  half  you  will 
be  there. 


February  13,  1682. 


Pray  for  me. 
February  13, 1832. 


127 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


carriage,  when  he  was  so  forcibly  carried  from  Warsaw, 
was  a  dressing-case  of  your  mother's,  in  which  was  de- 
posited this  medal.  No  opportunity  was  ever  afforded 
the  general  of  returning  it;  for,  had  there  been  any 
means  of  communicating  with  us,  he  was  entirely  igno- 
rant of  our  place  of  exile." 

"  But  still  you  believe  this  medal  to  be  of  great 
importance  to  us  ?  " 

Doubtless  it  is !  and  never  had  I  seen  your  mother 
so  joyful  for  the  last  fifteen  years,  as  on  the  occasion  of 
her  again  obtaining  possession  of  it  through  the  stranger. 
6  Henceforward,'  exclaimed  she, '  the  fate  of  my  children 
will  be  as  happy  and  prosperous  as  it  has  hitherto  been 
the  reverse  ! '  and  turning  to  me,  her  fine  eyes  filled  with 
tears  of  joy,  and  her  whole  countenance  bright  with  the 
glow  of  happiness,  she  said  in  the  presence  of  the 
stranger,  '  I  shall  now  request  permission  of  the  governor 
of  Siberia  to  visit  France  with  my  daughters.  Surely  I 
have  been  sufficiently  punished  by  fifteen  years'  exile, 
and  the  confiscation  of  all  my  property.  If  I  am  refused, 
I  must  perforce  remain  ;  but  at  least  he  will  permit  me 
to  send  my  children  to  France  under  your  care,  my 
faithful  Dagobert;  and  you  must,  in  that  case,  depart 
quickly,  for,  unhappily,  much  time  has  already  been  lost ; 
and  should  you  not  arrive  before  the  thirteenth  of  Feb- 
ruary, this  painful  separation  and  hazardous  journey  will 
all  have  been  in  vain.'  " 

"  What  if  even  a  single  day  after  the  date  ? " 

"  6  Should  you  even  be  delayed  an  hour  over  the  pre- 
scribed time,'  returned  your  mother,  <  it  will  be  destruc- 
tive to  the  good  I  expect  from  the  undertaking;  the 
thirteenth  of  February  once  passed,  all  is  over.'  She  at 
the  same  moment  put  into  my  hands  a  thick  packet,  en- 
joining me  to  put  it  into  the  post-office  of  the  first  town 
we  passed  through ;  and  this  I  have  done." 

"  And  do  you  calculate  upon  our  reaching  Paris  by  the 
appointed  time  ? " 

128 


THE  SURPRISE. 


"  I  trust  so.  But,  if  you  think  you  are  strong  enough 
to  bear  the  fatigue,  I  should  like  to  double  some  of  our 
marches ;  for,  only  travelling  as  we  now  do,  at  the  rate 
of  five  leagues  a  day,  even  should  we  escape  all  acciden- 
tal delay,  it  will  be  impossible  for  us  to  arrive  at  our 
journey's  end  before  the  beginning  of  February,  and  it 
would  be  very  much  better  to  be  there  as  much  sooner  as 
we  could  reach  Paris." 

"But  since  our  dear  father  is  in  India,  and,  being 
under  sentence  of  death,  unable  to  return  to  France, 
when  shall  we  see  him  ? " 

"  Yes,  dear  Dagobert,  do  tell  us  when  and  where  we 
are  to  embrace  this  beloved  parent  ? " 

"  My  poor  children  !  There  are  many  things  you  have 
yet  to  learn.  When  the  mysterious  stranger  last  saw 
your  father,  he  could  not  have  ventured  back  to  France. 
But  circumstances  have  altered  since  then,  and  he  may 
now  do  so  with  perfect  safety." 

"  Tell  us  !  Tell  us  how,  Dagobert  ? "  asked  the  sisters, 
eagerly. 

"  Because,  during  the  past  year,  the  Bourbons,  who 
exiled  him,  have,  in  their  turn,  been  driven  out  of  the 
kingdom ;  the  news  will  have  long  since  reached  India, 
and  your  father's  first  impulse  would  be  to  hasten  to 
Paris,  in  the  fond  hope  and  expectation  of  finding  your 
mother  and  selves  assembled  upon  the  all  important  thir- 
teenth of  February  of  the  coming  year." 

"  Ah,"  said  Rose,  with  a  gentle  sigh,  "  now  I  under- 
stand ;  and  we  may,  indeed,  hope  to  behold  him  !  " 

"  Do  you  know  the  name  of  the  strange  traveller  you 
have  been  telling  us  of,  Dagobert  ? " 

"No,  my  children.  But  let  his  name  be  what  it 
might,  he  was  a  fine,  noble-hearted  man.  When  he  took 
leave  of  your  mother,  she  thanked  him,  with  many  tears, 
for  his  kindness  to  us  all,  and  blessed  him  for  his  gener- 
ous devotion  to  your  dear  father.  He  pressed  her  hands  in 
his  and  said,  in  a  sweet  and  gentle  voice,  which  moved 

129 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


me  in  spite  of  myself,  i  Why  thank  me  ?  Has  He  not 
said,  Love  ye  one  another  ? '  " 

"  Who  did  he  mean  by  Him  ?  Yes,  whom  did  the 
traveller  allude  to  as  speaking  those  words  ? " 

"  That  I  can't  tell  you ;  but  the  tone  and  manner  in 
which  he  uttered  the  expression  seemed  to  touch  my  very 
heart,  and  those  were  the  last  syllables  I  heard  him 
speak." 

"  Love  ye  one  another  !  "  repeated  Rose,  pensively. 
"  What  beautiful  words  !  "  added  Blanche. 
"  And  where  was  the  traveller  going  ?    Did  he  tell 
you?" 

"  Oh,  far  off  —  far  distant  northwards,  I  heard  him 
reply,  when  your  mother  questioned  him  on  the  subject 
of  his  farther  travelling ;  and  when,  after  his  departure, 
your  mother  was  speaking  to  me  of  him,  she  said,  '  The 
tender  yet  mournful  style  of  language  employed  by  the 
stranger  who  has  just  gone  has  affected  me  even  to 
tears.  Yet,  while  listening  to  him,  I  appeared  happier  in 
mind,  and  stronger  in  body,  than  I  have  done  for  years ; 
my  heart  seemed  to  beat  with  increased  love  for  my  hus- 
band and  children,  and  yet  the  expression  of  his  own 
countenance  was  that  of  a  person  who  had  never  smiled 
or  wept  in  his  life.'  I  stood  by  your  mother  watching 
his  departing  steps,  and,  we  both  remarked,  with  slow, 
calm,  yet  measured  steps,  and  looking  downwards  with 
a  dejected  and  melancholy  air  —  and,  talking  of  his 
steps,  I  observed  — " 

"  What  did  you  observe,  Dagobert  ?" 

"  You  remember  that  the  pathway  leading  to  the 
house  was  always  damp,  from  the  trickling  of  the  small 
stream  which  flowed  near  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !    We  remember  perfectly  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  I  noticed  that  the  impression  of  his  foot 
remained  on  the  soil,  and  that  the  nails  in  his  boot  were 
arranged  in  the  form  of  a  cross." 

"  A  cross  ?  " 

130 


THE  SURPRISE. 


"  Like  this,"  said  Dagobert,  dotting  with  his  finger  the 
seven  marks  composing  the  cross,  on  the  coverlet  of  the 
bed  ;  "  there  they  were  placed  after  this  fashion,  beneath 
the  heel  of  his  boot : 


"  There,  you  see  that  forms  a  perfect  cross  ! " 

"  What  could  that  possibly  signify  ? " 

"Anything  —  nothing.  Yet  it  must,  too,  have  had 
some  meaning  in  it ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  could  but  look 
upon  it  as  a  bad  presage  for  us,  for,  from  the  hour  of  his 
quitting  us,  one  piece  of  ill-luck  followed  another." 

"  Alas !  the  death  of  my  mother !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  but,  previously  to  that,  a  severe  blow 
overtook  us.  You  had  not  returned  from  your  ramble, 
and  your  mother  was  preparing  her  petition  requesting 
permission  either  to  conduct  you  to  France  or  to  send 
you  thither,  when  I  heard  the  quick  gallop  of  a  horse ; 
it  was  a  courier  from  the  governor-general  of  Siberia, 
bringing  an  order  for  our  change  of  residence,  and  bid- 
ding us  prepare,  in  three  days'  time,  to  join  a  party  of 
unfortunates  who  were  condemned  by  the  state  to  ban- 
ishment in  one  of  the  most  inclement  parts  of  Asiatic 
Tartary,  four  hundred  leagues  beyond  our  present  abode, 
and  so  much  farther  northwards.  Thus,  after  fifteen 
years  of  exile,  your  poor  mother  was  still  to  experience 
an  increase  of  persecution  and  cruelty." 

"But,  wherefore,  Dagobert,  was  she  thus  severely 
treated?" 

"  It  appeared  as  though  some  evil  genius  strove 
against  her  happiness.  Had  the  traveller  been  but  a  day 
or  two  later,  he  would  not  have  found  us  at  Milosk  ;  and 
if  he  had  subsequently  visited  us,  the  extreme  distance 

131 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


would  have  rendered  both  the  papers  and  medal  useless, 
since,  had  we  started  on  the  instant,  we  could  not  have 
reached  Paris  by  the  given  time." 

" 6  There  must  be  some  powerful  interest  concerned  in 
keeping  myself  and  children  from  Paris,  or  these  harsh 
measures  would  never  be  resorted  to,'  said  your  mother  * 
<  for  thus  to  increase  the  distance  of  our  place  of  ban- 
ishment upwards  of  four  hundred  leagues  is  to  place 
an  insuperable  obstacle  to  our  being  in  Paris  by  the 
appointed  day.'  And  this  thought  rendered  her  almost 
heart-broken." 

"  And,  perhaps,  was  the  cause  of  the  sudden  malady 
which  carried  her  off !  " 

"  Alas  !  no,  my  child ;  the  accursed  cholera,  which, 
like  the  simoom  of  the  desert,  falls  on  all  with  deadly 
power,  laid  her  low.  Like  the  lightning  comes  this 
scourge  of  human  life,  and,  like  the  thunderbolt,  it 
strikes  the  young,  the  fair,  the  innocent,  the  beloved,  the 
good,  equally  with  the  vile  and  wicked.  None  are  safe 
from  its  dread  poison,  and,  ere  evening  closed  on  our 
village,  which,  when  the  morning  dawned,  had  no  sick- 
ness but  that  of  fond  hearts  pining  for  home  and  dear- 
loved  friends,  five  of  our  small  population  had  fallen 
victims  to  its  rapid  and  fatal  progress ;  while  your 
precious  mother,  stricken  unto  death,  lay  in  her  last 
agonies,  with  barely  sufficient  strength  remaining-  to 
hang  this  medal  around  your  neck,  my  poor  dear  Rose, 
to  commend  you  both  to  my  most  careful  guidance 
and  charge,  —  to  beseech  of  me  to  set  out  with  you  both 
for  France  on  the  morrow,  to  clasp  her  feeble  arms 
about  your  necks,  and,  with  her  last  fond  kiss,  to  give 
up  her  latest  breath.  Your  mother  dead,  the  government 
order  of  removal  could  in  no  way  affect  you,  and,  accord- 
ingly, the  permission  I  requested  of  departing  instantly 
with  you  was  unhesitatingly  granted.  We,  therefore, 
set  out  on  the  journey  deemed  so  important  by  your  —  " 
The  poor  soldier  could  not  proceed, —  sobs  choked  his 

132 


THE  SURPRISE. 


voice ;  and,  throwing  himself  back  on  the  seat  he  occu- 
pied, he  tightly  pressed  his  hard,  horny  fingers  over  the 
eyes  which  refused  to  contain  the  large  drops  gathered 
in  them,  while  the  sisters,  tenderly  embracing  each 
other,  mingled  their  sobs  and  tears. 

At  length  Dagobert  uncovered  his  sunburnt  face, 
and  surveying  the  weeping  girls  with  proud  exulta- 
tion, "  There ! "  said  he,  "  upon  that  fearful  occasion 
you,  children  as  you  were,  showed  yourselves  worthy  of 
the  brave  father  from  whom  you  sprung.  Spite  of  all 
remonstrance  as  to  the  danger  you  incurred,  it  was  found 
impossible  to  withdraw  you  from  the  bed  of  your  dying 
mother,  —  your  tender  hands  closed  her  eyes.  When  all 
forsook  her  corpse,  from  very  dread,  you  boldly  looked 
on  death  and  dared  contagion.  Your  young  eyes,  dimmed 
with  weeping  over  this  cruel  bereavement,  refused  to 
close  in  sleep,  and  resolutely  persisted  in  passing  the 
night  by  the  cold  remains  of  her  who  in  life  had  been 
so  justly  dear.  Nor  did  you  once  lose  sight  of  her  till 
you  saw  me  lay  her  in  the  humble  grave  I  had  dug,  — 
when,  weeping  bitterly,  you  watched  me  place  the  small 
wooden  cross  I  had  made  at  the  head  of  her  last  resting- 
place." 

Here  Dagobert  abruptly  ceased.  A  strange  and  wild 
noise  was  heard,  resembling  the  neighing  of  a  terrified 
animal,  mingled  with  the  most  savage  and  ferocious 
roarings,  as  though  a  whole  menagerie  had  broken  their 
bounds.  The  horror-stricken  soldier  sprung  to  his  feet, 
—  his  time-worn  countenance  was  blanched  with  fear. 
Hastily  he  articulated,  "  'Tis  the  cry  of  Jovial !  'Tis  my 
old  horse  !  What  can  have  happened  to  him  ? "  and, 
hastily  quitting  the  chamber,  he  rushed  impetuously 
down  the  staircase. 

The  two  sisters,  relapsing  into  their  former  terror  at 
the  abrupt  departure  of  Dagobert,  and  tightly  folded  in 
each  other's  arms,  saw  not  an  enormous  hand  passed 
through  the  broken  casement,  open  the  fastening  of  the 

133 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

window,  push  the  two  sashes  violently  open,  and  knock 
over  the  lamp  placed  on  the  little  table,  on  which  the 
old  soldier  had  laid  his  wallet. 

The  orphans  were  now  left  in  impenetrable  dark- 
ness. 


134 


CHAPTER  XL 


JOVIAL  AND  LA  MORT. 

Morok,  having  conducted  Jovial  into  the  middle  of  his 
menagerie,  took  off  the  covering  which  prevented  his 
seeing  or  smelling. 

Scarcely  had  the  tiger,  lion,  and  panther  perceived 
him,  than  the  famished  creatures  rushed  precipitately 
against  the  bars  of  their  cages. 

The  poor  horse,  seized  with  a  sudden  terror,  stood  with 
extended  neck  and  fixed  gaze,  trembling  in  every  limb, 
and  as  though  glued  to  the  ground,  while  a  stream  of 
thick,  cold  sweat  ran  from  his  panting  sides. 

The  lion  and  tiger,  uttering  fearful  roarings,  continued 
to  pace  violently  up  and  down  their  dens,  while  the  mute, 
concentrated  fury  of  the  panther  was  still  more  fearfully 
expressed. 

At  the  risk  of  dislocating  his  neck,  he,  with  one  tre- 
mendous spring,  dashed  against  the  bars  of  his  cage, 
then  returning  slowly  and  stealthily,  though  with  in- 
creased ferocity,  he  again  crouched  down  at  the  opposite 
extremity  of  his  cage,  preparatory  to  a  fresh  essay  to 
burst  the  bars  which  held  him,  —  an  effort  as  futile, 
though  more  desperate,  than  the  preceding. 

Thrice  had  he  taken  his  deadly  spring  in  fearful 
silence,  when  the  horse,  passing  from  the  first  stupor 
of  fear  to  the  horrible  terror  of  certain  danger,  neighed 
loudly  and  rushed  with  wild  alarm  to  the  door  by  which 
he  had  entered,  but,  finding  it  closed,  his  head  drooped, 
his  limbs  bent,  while  he  sniffed  with  expanded  nostrils 

135 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  trifling  aperture  between  the  door  and  the  sill  as 
though  anxious  to  escape  the  nauseous  atmosphere'  by 
which  he  was  surrounded,  and  to  breathe  again  the  open 
air;  then,  becoming  momentarily  more  aware  of  the 
danger  of  his  situation,  the  poor  brute  filled  the  place 
with  his  loud  neighings,  while  he  kicked  with  desperate 
plunges  against  the  door. 

At  the  moment  when  La  Mort  was  preparing  another 
death-dealing  spring,  the  prophet  approached  his  cage, 
and  with  his  spear  pushed  back  the  heavy  bolt  which 
secured  it.  As  the  last  portion  of  the  iron  rolled  from 
the  groove  m  which  it  was  held,  the  prophet  fled  rapidly 
towards  the  ladder,  and,  ere  a  second  had  elapsed,  had 
well-nigh  reached  his  loft. 

The  loud  roaring  of  the  lion  and  tiger,  mingled  with 
the  cries  of  Jovial,  were  no  longer  confined  to  the  menag- 
erie, but  now  resounded  throughout  the  inn. 

Again  the  panther  essayed  a  fresh  bound,  and  this 
time  with  so  determined  a  force,  that  as  the  door  flew 
open,  he  sprung  into  the  very  centre  of  the  building. 

The  light  of  the  lamp  left  by  Morok  shone  upon  the 
sable  lustre  of  the  creature's  coat,  displaying  the  varie- 
gated spots  which  clothe  its  surface.  For  a  few  seconds 
the  beast  remained  on  the  ground  motionless,  its  short 
legs  gathered  under  it,  and  its  head  stretched  out,  as 
though  calculating  the  force  of  the  spring  calculated  to 
reach  the  horse.  A  brief  instant,  and  La  Mort  darted 
upon  the  unfortunate  animal. 

Jovial,  on  perceiving  his  enemy  escape  from  his  den, 
threw  himself,  with  all  his  strength  and  power,  against 
the  door,  which,  unhappily  for  him,  opened  from  without. 

In  his  struggles  to  escape,  the  horse  plunged,  kicked, 
beat  the  door  with  his  head,  and  strove  by  every  exertion 
to  force  a  passage  for  himself,  and,  at  the  moment  when 
La  Mort  sprung  on  him,  was  standing  almost  erect,  strik- 
ing against  the  door  posts  with  his  fore-feet.  The  quick 
and  deadly  foe  he  sought  to  fly  from  seized  him  by  the 

136 


JOVIAL  AND  LA  MORT. 


throat,  tearing  his  chest  with  the  sharp  talons  of  his 
fore  paws. 

The  first  incision  of  the  panther's  terrific  teeth  divided 
the  jugular  vein,  from  which  spouted  forth  jets  of  crim- 
son blood,  and  covering  the  mouth  and  breast  of  the 
ravenous  beast  with  its  ensanguined  stream;  but,  not 
content  with  thus  dealing  poor  Jovial  his  death  wound, 
the  J ava  panther,  raising  himself  on  his  hind  legs,  forced 
the  agonised  brute  against  the  door,  where  he  held  him,, 
while,  with  his  sharp  claws,  he  tore  open  the  heaving 
flanks  of  his  victim. 

The  shrieks  of  the  tortured  horse  were  now  fearful  to 
hear,  and  as  the  savage  panther  continued  to  mangle  his 
quivering  flesh,  his  cries,  groans,  and  half-smothered 
attempts  to  neigh  for  his  master,  were  most  horribly 
distinct  in  the  stillness  of  the  night.  All  at  once  a 
voice  was  heard,  exclaiming : 

"  Jovial,  Jovial !  My  fine  fellow,  your  master  is  here  ! 
Courage,  my  old  boy,  his  master  will  save  him  ! " 

These  words  proceeded  from  Dagobert,  who  was  vainly 
striving  to  break  open  the  door  behind  which  this  san- 
guinary conflict  was  going  on. 

"  Jovial!"  pursued  the  old  soldier,  "here  I  am. 
Don't  mind  them,  my  brave  fellow  !    Here,  help,  help  !  " 

At  the  well-known  and  friendly  sound,  the  expiring 
animal  endeavoured  to  turn  his  head  towards  the  place 
from  whence  his  master's  voice  proceeded,  and  to  answer 
him  with  a  faint  note  of  recognition ;  but,  sinking 
under  the  devouring  ferocity  of  the  panther,  he  dropped, 
first  on  his  knees,  then  on  his  side,  so  as  to  completely 
block  up  the  door,  and  effectually  preventing  any  one 
opening  it  from  without. 

All  was  now  over. 

The  panther,  still  eagerly  pursuing  his  gluttonous  and 
murderous  repast,  now  bestrode  the  horse's  body,  and, 
tightly  compressing  him  with  his  fore  and  hind  paws, 
spite  of  poor  Jo  vial's  dying  efforts  to  dislodge  him,  con- 

137 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


tinued  to  bury  his  blood-stained  muzzle  in  the  palpitating 
entrails  of  the  noble  steed. 

"  Help,  help,  help !  For  heaven's  sake,  for  my  poor 
horse  !  "  exclaimed  Dagobert,  vainly  seeking  to  burst  the 
lock ;  then  crying  with  impotent  fury,  "  And  I  have  no 
weapon !  Oh,  for  my  trusty  weapons !  My  arms,  mv 
arms!"  .  J 

"  Take  care !  "  cried  the  conqueror  of  brutes,  appearing 
at  the  opening  which  looked  out  from  the  loft  on  to  the 
courtyard.  "  Attempt  not  to  enter,  or  you  will  endanger 
your  life  !    My  panther  is  furious." 

"  But  my  horse  !  My  horse  !  "  reiterated  Dagobert, 
in  a  tone  of  beseeching  earnestness. 

"Must  have  got  out  of  his  stable  in  the  night  and 
entered  into  the  building  here,  by  pushing  the  door 
open.  No  doubt  the  sight  of  him  made  the  panther 
break  through  his  bars  and  get  out.  You  will  have  to 
answer  for  whatever  may  happen,"  added  the  tamer  of 
beasts,  in  a  threatening  voice  ;  "  for  I  must  incur  the 
most  fearful  risks  in  getting  La  Mort  back  to  his 
cage." 

"  But  my  horse  !  "  persisted  Dagobert.  "  Save,  —  oh, 
save  my  horse  !  " 

The  prophet  disappeared  from  the  opening, 
The  roaring  of  the  animals,  with  the  cries  of  Dago- 
bert, awoke  all  the  inmates  of  the  White  Falcon ;  in  all 
directions  lights  streamed  from  the  windows,  while  heads 
were  hastily  thrust  out  to  inquire  the  cause  of  all  this 
unusual  disturbance.  Ere  long  the  servants  of  the  inn 
had  assembled,  lantern  in  hand,  and,  crowding  around 
Dagobert,  were  loudly  questioning  him  as  to  what  had 
occurred. 

"  My  horse  is  in  there,  and  one  of  this  man's  animals 
has  got  loose  !  "  cried  the  soldier,  still  frantically  striving 
to  burst  the  door. 

At  these  words  the  posse  of  half  dressed  domestics, 
seized  with  a  direful  panic,  still  further  augmented 

138 


JOVIAL  AND  LA  MORT. 


by  the  tremendous  roaring  of  the  beasts,  fled  in  wild 
disorder  to  apprise  the  landlord  of  what  had  happened. 

The  agony  of  the  old  soldier  while  awaiting  the  open- 
ing of  the  door  from  within  is  wholly  beyond  the  powers 
of  language  to  describe.  Pale,  trembling,  his  ear  tightly 
pressed  against  the  keyhole,  he  listened  in  silent  eager- 
ness. By  degrees  the  terrific  howling  of  the  animals 
ceased ;  a  deep,  low  roar  was  occasionally  heard, 
mingled  with  the  harsh  voice  of  the  prophet,  en- 
deavouring to  restore  tranquillity  among  the  furious 
inhabitants  of  the  menagerie. 

"  La  Mort !   Here  !   La  Mort !   I  command  !    So  —  " 

The  night  was  profoundly  dark,  and  Dagobert,  absorbed 
in  his  intense  concern  for  the  horse's  safety,  neither  saw 
nor  heard  Goliath  clambering  over  the  tiled  roof,  so  as 
to  effect  an  entrance  by  the  garret  window  into  the 
chamber  of  his  master. 

At  this  moment  the  yard  door  again  opened,  and 
admitted  the  host  of  the  White  Falcon,  followed  by 
a  number  of  men,  some  armed  with  guns,  others  carry- 
ing pitchforks,  sticks,  or  any  defensive  weapon  they 
could  hastily  collect,  —  all,  however,  approached  with 
considerable  alarm  and  caution. 

"  What  is  all  this  about  ? "  inquired  the  host,  approach- 
ing Dagobert.  "  Why  is  my  inn  to  be  upset  in  this  way, 
I  should  like  to  know  ?  I  wish  all  wild  beast  showmen 
were  at  the  devil,  in  company  with  the  careless  fellows 
who  know  not  how  to  tie  a  horse  up  securely,  when  there 
is  a  strong  halter  and  a  good  manger  to  fasten  it  to !  It 
is  a  confounded  shame  to  be  dragged  out  of  one's  bed  in 
this  unaccountable  manner !  If  your  horse  is  injured, 
it  serves  you  right,  —  you  ought  to  have  been  more 
careful." 

The  poor  soldier  heeded  not  these  remarks ;  in  fact, 
he  did  not  appear  to  hear  them.  His  whole  soul  seemed 
concentrated  in  listening  to  the  sounds  proceeding  from 
the  menagerie,  while,  with  a  half  impatient  gesture,  he 

139 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


sought  to  obtain  the  silence  he  desired  to  ascertain  what 
was  doing  within  its  walls. 

Suddenly  a  fearfully  ferocious  roar  was  heard,  accom- 
panied by  a  shriek  of  pain  from  the  prophet,  and  almost 
instantly  the  panther  uttered  a  frightful  yell. 

"Your  negligence  has,  no  doubt,  caused  some  fatal 
accident,"  said  the  landlord  of  the  inn  to  Dagobert. 
"  Did  you  hear  that  cry  ?  Morok  is,  perhaps,  dangerously 
wounded." 

Dagobert  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  door  opened, 
and  Goliath  appeared  on  the  threshold,  saying : 

"  You  can  come  in,  —  there  is  no  danger  now." 

The  interior  of  the  menagerie  presented  a  most  horrible 
spectacle. 

The  prophet,  pale  and  scarcely  able  to  conceal  his 
extreme  agitation  beneath  his  assumed  mask  of  calm 
self-possession,  was  kneeling  near  the  panther's  cage,  in 
an  attitude  of  deep  prayer  ;  his  lips  only  moved,  and 
he  seemed  wrapped  in  a  devotional  reverie  that  rendered 
him  alike  unmindful  and  unconscious  of  what  was  passing 
around  him. 

At  length,  compelled  by  the  thronging  crowd  to  rise 
from  his  knees,  Morok  cast  his  eyes  upwards,  and  uttered, 
in,  a  deep  solemn  voice  : 

"  Thanks,  thanks,  0  my  God,  for  having  yet  again 
prevailed  by  the  power  thou  hast  given  to  mine  arm!" 
Then  crossing  his  arms  on  his  breast,  with  imperious 
look  and  haughty  brow,  he  seemed  triumphing  in  his  late 
victory  over  La  Mort,  who,  extended  at  the  bottom  of  his 
den,  still  howled  piteously. 

The  spectators  of  this  scene,  ignorant  that  the  robe  of 
the  prophet  concealed  the  suit  of  entire  armour  he  wore, 
and  attributing  the  cries  of  the  panther  to  the  super- 
natural terror  he  experienced,  were  struck  with  astonish- 
ment and  admiration  at  the  marvellous  courage  and 
intrepidity  of  a  single  man. 

A  little  behind  Morok  stood  the  giant  figure  of  Goliath, 

140 


JOVIAL  AND  LA  MORT. 


leaning  on  an  ashen  sapling,  which  served  him  as  a  lance 
to  direct  the  movements  of  the  beasts.  And  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  panther's  cage  lay  the  remains  of  poor 
Jovial,  surrounded  by  a  sea  of  blood. 

At  the  sight  of  the  mangled  and  still  bleeding  corpse 
of  his  dear  and  ancient  comrade,  the  rough  countenance 
of  the  old  soldier  assumed  an  expression  of  the  most 
touching  grief,  hopeless  as  it  was.  The  poor  fellow, 
kneeling  beside  his  horse,  raised  his  head,  as  though  still 
seeking  a  vestige  of  life ;  but  when  he  beheld  the  fixed, 
glassy  eye  but  lately  so  bright  and  intelligent,  Dagobert 
gently  laid  it  down,  and,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands, 
gave  way  to  the  most  bitter  lamentations,  forgetting,  in  his 
sorrow  at  the  loss  of  so  valued  and  cherished  a  friend, 
all  considerations  save  his  bitter  regret  at  the  horrible 
fate  of  his  poor  old  charger,  —  his  unflinching  companion 
in  fatigue  or  battle,  who,  like  himself,  bore  wounds  and 
scars  to  commemorate  the  hard  fights  they  had  mutually 
shared  in,  and  who  for  nearly  twenty  years  had  daily  fed 
from  his  hand  and  joyfully  welcomed  his  approach. 

Engrossed  by  the  most  painful  reminiscences  of  all 
J ovial  had  been,  mingled  with  the  deepest  sorrow  of  his 
having  met  with  so  unworthy  an  end  to  all  his  services,  the 
veteran  thought  not  once  of  the  severe  interruption  this 
accident  would  prove  to  the  important  journey  he  had 
undertaken,  or  by  what  means  the  young  girls  he  was 
conducting  to  Paris  would  now  be  able  to  proceed. 

The  intense  grief  of  the  old  soldier  was  so  evident  in 
the  agony  delineated  on  his  weather-beaten  features,  that 
even  the  host  of  the  Falcon,  with  his  group  of  followers, 
could  not  refuse  their  sympathy  and  pity  at  the  sight  of 
the  old  man  kneeling  in  such  bitter  sorrow  beside  his 
dead  horse. 

But  when  pursuing  his  regrets  at  the  violent  end  his 
favourite  had  come  to,  he  remembered  that  Jovial  had 
shared  his  exile,  and  had  borne  the  mother  of  his  young 
charges  through  a  loug  and  fatiguing  journey,  even  as 

141 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


he  had  since  carried  the  children,  then  the  fatal  conse- 
quences of  being  at  this  critical  juncture  deprived  of  the 
unfortunate  animal  flashed  on  his  mind  in  all  their 
force. 

Rage  succeeded  to  grief,  and  as  the  soldier  awoke 
from  his  laments  over  his  friend  to  a  clear  sense  of  his 
present  peril  and  destitution,  fury  flashed  from  his  eyes, 
and  springing  on  the  prophet,  whom  he  justly  consid- 
ered as  the  cause  of  all  his  misfortunes,  he  seized  him 
by  the  throat,  while  he  struck  him  repeatedly  on  the 
breast,  but  the  firm  coat  of  mail  worn  beneath  the  soft 
wrapping  robe  of  Morok  prevented  this  effusion  of 
wrath  from  taking  the  slightest  effect. 

"  Wretch !  "  exclaimed  Dagobert,  still  continuing  his 
blows  ;  "  you  shall  dearly  pay  for  all  this  !  " 

The  slight  frame  of  Morok  would  have  had  no  chance 
against  an  antagonist  of  Dagobert's  uncommon  size  and 
strength,  and  it  required  the  combined  power  of  Goliath 
and  the  host  of  the  Falcon  to  rescue  the  prophet  from 
the  firm  grasp  of  the  soldier. 

When  at  length  the  combatants  were  separated,  Morok 
was  white  and  almost  convulsed  with  so  deadly  a  rage 
that  it  required  all  Goliath's  enormous  strength  to  pre- 
vent his  assailing  Dagobert  with  the  spear  of  the  giant. 

"  Your  conduct  is  most  disgraceful,"  said  the  landlord, 
addressing  Dagobert,  who  was  standing  with  his  clenched 
hand  tightly  compressed  against  his  bald  forehead. 
"You  expose  this  worthy  man  to  the  risk  of  being 
devoured  by  his  own  beasts,  and  then  try  to  murder 
him !  Is  that  the  way  for  an  old  soldier  like  you  to 
behave  ?  You  showed  far  more  sense  in  the  early  part 
of  the  evening." 

The  words  recalled  the  soldier  to  himself,  and  made 
him  the  more  regret  his  impetuosity,  as  he  knew  that, 
being  a  stranger,  he  should  be  sure  to  have  the  worst 
chance  of  justice.  It  was,  besides,  absolutely  necessary 
that  he  should  be  indemnified  for  the  loss  of  poor  Jovial, 

142 


JOVIAL  AND"  LA  MORT. 


because  the  delay  of  a  single  day  might  peril  everything 
he  had  at  heart  to  achieve.  Making  a  violent  effort, 
therefore,  to  restrain  himself,  he  replied  in  an  agitated 
voice  he  strove  to  render  calm : 

"  You  are  right.  I  was  too  hasty !  True,  I  forgot 
the  patience  I  exercised  before.  But  surely  this  man 
ought  to  replace  my  horse.  I  ask  you  to  judge  fairly 
between  us." 

"  Well,  then,"  answered  the  other,  "  if  you  leave  it  to 
my  decision,  I  shall  give  it  against  you.  You  are  alone 
to  blame  for  all  the  mischief  that  has  ensued.  You 
must  have  tied  your  horse  up  very  carelessly,  and,  in 
consequence,  he  has  strayed  from  his  stable  and  entered 
this  barn,  the  door  of  which  was  probably  left  half 
open,"  added  the  host  of  the  White  Falcon,  evidently 
siding  with  the  tamer  of  beasts. 

"  You  are  right,  master,"  chimed  in  Goliath ;  "  I 
recollect  purposely  leaving  the  door  ajar  to  give  the  ani- 
mals air.  I  knew  the  cages  were  well  secured,  and  that 
there  was  not  the  slightest  danger." 

"  Of  course  not,  if  all  was  well  looked  to  and  fast," 
responded  the  crowd. 

"  And  no  doubt  it  was  the  sight  of  the  horse  rendered 
the  panther  furious,  and  made  him  break  out,"  added 
another. 

"  I  think  the  prophet  has  the  greatest  cause  for  com- 
plaint," said  a  third. 

"  It  is  very  immaterial  to  me  what  any  of  you  think 
or  say,"  said  Dagobert,  whose  patience  was  beginning 
to  leave  him.  "  What  I  say  and  what  I  insist  upon  is, 
that  he  either  gives  me  as  good  a  horse  as  that  his 
beast  has  killed,  or  the  price  of  one,  and  that,  too,  with- 
out delay,  that  I  may  instantly  quit  this  unlucky  spot." 

"  You  will  find,"  said  Morok,  "  that  it  is  I  who  require 
recompensing  for  the  mischief  done,"  and  having  pur- 
posely reserved  this  coup  de  theatre  as  a  finale,  he 
exhibited  his  left  hand  which  he  had  hitherto  kept  con- 

143 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


cealed  in  the  bosom  of  his  furred  robe,  and  displayed  it 
wounded  and  bleeding.  "  There,"  said  he,  "  behold  the 
effects  of  your  inexcusable  negligence  in  not  taking 
more  care  of  your  horse,  —  this  wound,  received  while 
forcing  the  infuriated  panther  back  to  his  cage,  has 
probably  lamed  me  for  life." 

Without  being  of  the  dangerous  description  stated  by 
the  prophet,  the  wound  was  sufficiently  frightful  to 
attract  universal  sympathy  and  pity. 

Reckoning,  no  doubt,  upon  this  incident  as  certain  to 
obtain  a  favourable  decision  for  a  cause  he  looked  upon 
as  his  own  affair,  the  landlord  of  the  Falcon  said,  turn- 
ing to  a  stable  lad,  who  stood  near  him : 

"  There  is  but  one  means  of  settling  this  dispute.  Go 
and  call  up  the  burgomaster,  and  beg  of  him  to  come 
hither  with  all  speed ;  he  will  decide  who  is  right  and 
who  is  wrong." 

"  The  very  thing  I  was  going  to  propose,"  said  the 
soldier ;  "  for,  talk  as  I  may,  I  cannot  obtain  justice 
unaided." 

"  Fritz  !  "  said  the  host,  "  run  to  the  burgomaster." 

The  lad  went  instantly,  and  his  master,  fearing  to  be 
involved  in  the  inquiry  which  would  take  place,  and 
probably  punished  for  having  on  the  previous  evening 
omitted  to  ask  the  soldier  for  his  passport,  etc.,  said : 

"  The  burgomaster  will  be  preciously  cross  at  being 
disturbed  at  such  an  unreasonable  hour.  I  have  no 
taste  for  coming  in  for  a  share  of  it,  therefore  I  will 
thank  you  to  go  and  fetch  your  passport  and  requisite 
papers,  if  you  are  duly  provided  with  them,  for  I  did 
very  wrong  in  not  demanding  them  upon  your  arrival 
last  evening." 

"  They  are  in  my  travelling  bag,  up-stairs  in  the  bed- 
room," answered  the  soldier ;  "  you  shall  have  them 
instantly !  "  Then  averting  his  head,  and  putting  his 
hand  before  his  eyes,  as  he  passed  the  body  of  Jovial,  he 
quitted  the  place  to  return  to  the  sisters. 

144 


JOVIAL  AND  LA  MORT. 


The  eye  of  the  prophet  followed  him  with  a  trium- 
phant glare,  saying,  mentally  : 

"  He  has  now  neither  horse,  money,  nor  papers,  —  more 
I  am  forbidden  to  do ;  and  I  must  likewise  proceed  with 
cautious  steps  that  no  suspicions  may  fall  upon  me.  I 
have  so  far  managed  cleverly,  that  all  blame  must  rest  on 
the  soldier  for  what  has  happened  ;  and  one  thing  is  very 
certain,  that  several  days  must  elapse  ere  he  can  con- 
tinue his  route,  which  is  the  great  point  aimed  at  in  all 
I  have  done,  though  still  I  work  blindly,  and  wholly 
unable  to  comprehend  the  deep  importance  attached  to 
delaying  the  progress  of  an  old  man  and  two  young  girls. 
Well,  well,  I  am  but  an  agent." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  these  reflections  had 
crossed  the  mind  of  the  brute-conqueror,  Karl,  Goli- 
ath's comrade,  quitted  the  concealment  he  had  observed 
by  his  master's  commands,  and  departed  for  Leipsic, 
bearing  a  letter  hastily  penned  by  Morok,  and  which 
Karl  was  instructed  to  put  in  the  post  immediately  on 
his  arrival  in  that  city.    The  letter  was  addressed, 

"  A  Monsieur 
"  Monsieur  Rodin, 

"Rue  du  Milieu-des-Ursins,  No.  11, 

"  A  Paris, 

"  France." 


145 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE  BURGOMASTER. 

The  disquiet  of  Dagobert  was  increased  by  his  entire 
conviction  that  the  death  of  poor  Jovial  had  not  been 
accidental,  and  that  nothing  was  more  improbable  than 
that  an  animal  of  his  steady  and  well-disciplined  habits 
should  have  broken  from  his  own  stable  to  wander  into 
a  den  of  beasts.  This  deplorable  accident,  therefore,  he 
ascribed  to  the  wickedness  and  malice  of  the  master  of 
the  menagerie,  though  in  vain  did  he  try  to  find  a  cause 
for  such  determined  persecution ;  and  he  reflected  with 
alarm  that  the  decision  of  his  just  cause  was  at  the  sole 
mercy  of  a  man  whose  displeasure  at  being  thus  aroused 
from  his  slumbers  might  possibly  fall  upon  him,  and 
induce  the  irritated  and  weary  burgomaster  to  condemn 
him  upon  false  appearances. 

Firmly  resolved  to  conceal  from  the  orphans  as  long 
as  he  possibly  could  the  new  misfortune  which  had  over- 
taken him,  he  proceeded  to  their  chamber,  when,  at  the 
door,  he  stumbled  over  Killjoy  ;  for,  after  having  failed 
in  his  attempts  to  prevent  the  prophet  from  leading 
Jovial  away,  the  faithful  dog  had  returned  to  his  post. 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that,"  murmured  poor  Dagobert ; 
"  the  dog,  at  least,  has  kept  watch  over  the  poor  chil- 
dren," added  the  old  man,  gently  opening  the  door.  To 
his  great  surprise  the  chamber  was  in  utter  darkness. 

"  How  comes  it,  my  children,"  exclaimed  he,  "  that  I 
find  you  thus  without  light  ?  " 

No  answer  was  returned. 

146 


THE  BURGOMASTER. 


Terrified,  he  hastily  groped  his  way  to  the  bed,  and 
took  the  hand  that  lay  nearest  to  him,  —  alas  !  it  was  icy 
cold.  "  Rose  !  My  children  !  "  screamed  the  old  man,  in 
an  agony  of  fear.  "  Blanche  !  Oh,  speak  to  me  - —  you 
alarm  me  excessively  !  " 

Still  no  reply ;  and  the  rigid  fingers  fell  heavy  and 
helplessly  again  on  the  coverlet. 

The  moon,  breaking  through  the  mass  of  dark  clouds 
which  had  hitherto  obscured  her  beams,  shone  brightly 
through  the  window-panes  on  to  the  little  bed  placed 
immediately  opposite,  and  revealed  to  him  the  sisters 
fainting  in  each  other's  arms,  their  pale  countenances 
assuming  a  still  more  corpse-like  hue  from  the  reflection 
of  the  moonlight. 

"  Poor  dear  children  !  They  have  been  reduced  to  this 
state  by  fear,"  cried  Dagobert,  feeling  in  his  pocket  for 
the  small  flask  he  usually  carried  with  him ;  "  but  who 
can  wonder  at  it  after  such  a  trying  day  as  they  have 
passed  through  ? " 

So  saying,  the  soldier  moistened  the  corner  of  one  of 
their  handkerchiefs  with  a  few  drops  of  brandy ;  and, 
kneeling  down  beside  the  bed,  lightly  passed  it  over  the 
temples  of  the  sisters,  and  again  applying  the  saturated 
linen  to  the  nostrils  of  each.  Still  kneeling  by  their 
side,  and  bending  his  dark,  swarthy  countenance,  express- 
ive of  the  most  anxious  solicitude,  over  the  young 
orphans,  Dagobert  watched  with  intense  interest  the 
effect  of  the  only  restorative  he  had  it  in  his  power 
to  administer. 

At  length  a  convulsive  tremor,  passing  over  the  frame 
of  Rose,  inspired  the  old  man  with  fresh  hopes.  She 
soon  turned  upon  her  pillow,  sighing  deeply ;  then,  start- 
ing up,  perceived  Dagobert,  whom  she  did  not  recognise, 
through  the  imperfect  light  of  the  moon,  and  at  once 
frightened  and  surprised  she  clung  to  Blanche,  loudly 
calling  upon  her  for  help. 

Happily  the  rough  but  well-meant  cares  of  the  soldier 

147 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


began  to  take  effect  on  the  tender  frame  of  Blanche,  and 
the  cries  of  her  sister  completely  roused  her  from  her 
unconscious  state;  sharing  her  terrors  without  being 
aware  of  the  cause  of  them,  she  tightly  enfolded  her 
sister  in  her  arms. 

"  Heaven  be  praised  !  "  said  Dagobert,  «  the  colour  is 
returning  to  their  cheeks,  they  will  soon  be  quite 
restored!  That  is  all  right;  and  these  attacks  are 
merely^  the  effects  of  a  weak  nature,  and  soon  pass 
away;"  then  speaking  in  a  more  soothing  tone,  he 
added,  "There,  now  you  are  better,  are  you  not? 
Come,  my  children,  courage,  courage  ;  see,  it  is  Dago- 
bert—only  Dagobert!  Just  tell  me  you  are  well,  and 
pleased  I  have  come  back  to  you." 

Both  sisters  sprung  towards  their  tender  nurse,  and, 
looking  at  him  with  countenances  still  agitated  and 
uneasy,  smiled  gratefully,  and  by  one  simultaneous  move- 
ment held  out  their  arms  to  him,  crying,  in  glad  tones : 

"  Oh,  Dagobert !  How  glad  we  are  to  see  you !  Now 
we  are  safe  ! " 

"Yes,  dear  children!"  returned  the  veteran,  taking 
their  hands,  and  pressing  them  with  the  tenderness  of 
a  fond  father,  « I  will  see  that  no  further  harm  shall 
befall  you.  But  what  terrified  you  so  much  while  I  was 
absent?" 

"  Oh,  Dagobert,  do  not  ask  us  to  tell  you.  We  were 
almost  dead  with  fright." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  if  you  only  knew !  " 

"  But  how  came  the  lamp  extinguished  ? " 

"  We  did  not  do  it." 

"  Come,  dear  children,  collect  your  courage,  and  tell 
me  everything  that  took  place  after  I  quitted  the  room ; 
this  inn  does  not  seem  to  me  very  secure,  fortunately  we 
shall  soon  quit  it.  It  was  a  bad  job  for  us  ever  to  have 
entered  it ;  but,  then,  what  could  we  do  ?  There  was  no 
other  place  for  us  to  halt  for  the  night.  But  tell  me 
what  happened  to  alarm  you  so  very  much  ? " 

148 


THE  BURGOMASTER. 


"  Scarcely  had  you  left  us  than  the  window  came  open 
with  a  violent  noise,  and  the  lamp  fell  off  the  table  with 
a  frightful  crash  ;  and  we  were  so  alarmed  that  we  threw 
ourselves  into  each  other's  arms,  screaming  for  help,  and 
we  fancied  some  person  was  walking  about  the  chamber. 
And  all  that  terror  made  us  as  ill  as  you  found  us,  good' 
kind  Dagobert ;  we  felt  as  if  we  should  die ;  and  so  we 
thought  of  our  dear  mother,  who  promised  we  should  ffo 
to  her  then."  & 
Unfortunately  adhering  to  his  original  belief,  that 
the  violence  of  the  wind  had  broken  the  glass  of  the 
window  and  forced  it  open,  Dagobert  still  blamed  him- 
self for  imperfectly  fastening  the   casement,  setting 
down  this  second  alarm  of  the  sisters  to  the  same  cause 
as  the  preceding  one,  and  even  judging  that  their  ex- 
treme terror  had  exaggerated  the  circumstances  they 
related.  J 

"That  is  all  over  now,  and  done  with,"  replied  he, 
"  so  calm  yourselves,  and  think  no  more  about  it !  " 

"  But  what  made  you  quit  us  so  hastily,  Dagobert  ?" 

"  Yes  !     Now,  I  recollect,  —  don't  you,  sister  ?  We* 
heard  a  great  noise  down-stairs,  and  then  Dagobert 
rushed  out,  exclaiming,  <  My  horse!    What  can  they 
be  doing  to  my  horse?'    It  was  Jovial  neighing  very 
loudly,  was  it  not  ?    What  was  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

These  questions  recalled  to  the  mind  of  the  soldier 
the  many  griefs  and  difficulties  by  which  he  was  now 
surrounded  ;  he  feared  to  reply  lest  he  should  betray  the 
fearful  predicament  in  which  they  were  placed.  He  there- 
fore answered,  with  an  air  of  assumed  indifference  : 

"Yes,  it  was  Jovial  neighing,  but  that  was  all;  but 
we  must  have  a  light.  Do  you  remember  where  I  put 
my  fire-box  last  night  ?  Why,  I  am  growing  old  and 
stupid,  and  forget  everything.  Here  it  is,  all  the  while 
m  my  pocket ;  fortunately  we  have  a  candle,  —  so  I  will 
just  light  it,  and  then  look  in  my  wallet  for  some  papers 
1  require." 


149 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


As  Dagobert  completed  his  operation  of  procuring 
a  light  and  illuming  the  candle,  he  perceived  that  the 
sisters'  account  of  their  recent  fright  had  not  been  over- 
coloured,  for  the  casement  was  half  open,  the  table  and 
lamp  knocked  over,  and  on  the  ground  beside  him  lay 
his  haversack. 

The  veteran  closed  and  fastened  the  window,  replaced 
the  table-lamp  and  bag,  then,  taking  the  latter  in  his 
hands,  he  carefully  unclasped  it,  in  order  to  take  out  the 
pocketbook,  which,  as  well  as  his  cross  and  purse,  were 
deposited  in  a  species  of  false  pocket,  constructed  between 
the  outer  case  of  leather  and  the  lining ;  and  so  carefully 
were  the  different  straps  and  fastenings  readjusted  that 
a  more  suspicious  mind  than  Dagobert's  would  never 
have  supposed  its  contents  had  been  subjected  to  any 
scrutiny  but  his  own. 

The  soldier  thrust  his  hand  into  the  accustomed  aper- 
ture in  search  of  his  papers.  The  pocket  was  entirely 
empty.  Thunderstruck  at  this  additional  outrage,  Dago- 
bert started  with  amazed  looks ;  again  the  blood  forsook 
•  his  timeworn  countenance,  and,  in  accents  of  deep  dis- 
tress, he  exclaimed : 

"Gone!    That,  too!" 

"  Dagobert ! "  said  Blanche,  "  what  can  be  the 
matter  ?  " 

He  answered  not. 

For  some  minutes  he  continued  vacantly  gazing 
around  him,  one  hand  grasping  the  table  near  which 
he  stood  as  though  to  prevent  himself  from  falling,  the 
other  mechanically  pressing  the  sides  of  the  pocket 
where  he  had  left  his  lost  treasures. 

Then,  as  though  inspired  by  a  sudden  hope  (for  so 
cruel  a  reality  seemed  more  than  it  was  possible  to 
believe),  he  eagerly  emptied  the  contents  of  the  wallet 
on  the  table.  They  consisted  merely  of  some  trifling 
articles  of  half  worn-out  clothing,  and  his  old  uniform 
of  the  Imperial  Dragoon-Guards,  in  his  eyes  an  inesti- 

150 


THE  BURGOMASTER. 


mable  relic ;  but  in  vain  did  Dagobert  unfold  and  shake 
out  each  article,  no  trace  either  of  his  purse  or  the  pock- 
etbook  (containing  his  cross  and  the  letters  of  General 
Simon)  could  be  found.  And  then,  with  that  almost 
childish  tenacity  of  purpose  which  frequently  attends 
a  hopeless  search,  the  soldier  took  the  haversack  by  the 
two  comers,  and  shook  it  with  desperate  energy ;  alas ! 
equally  without  finding  that  which  he  sought. 

The  orphans,  unable  to  comprehend  either  the  silence 
or  conduct  of  Dagobert,  whose  back  was  towards  them, 
looked  at  each  other  in  great  uneasiness.  At  length 
Blanche  ventured  to  say,  in  a  timid  voice : 

"  What  ails  you,  Dagobert  ?  You  do  not  speak  to  us  ? 
And  what  are  you  looking  for  in  your  bag  ?  " 

Still  deaf  to  every  inquiry,  the  soldier  commenced 
a  strict  search  through  all  his  pockets,  turning  them 
completely  out,  but  still  in  vain ;  and  this  great  calamity 
was,  perhaps,  the  first  thing  in  his  life  that  had  ever 
rendered  him  unmindful  of  the  words  of  his  children, 
as  he  loved  to  style  the  orphans. 

Tears  suffused  the  eyes  of  the  sisters  at  this  continued 
silence  on  the  part  of  their  old  friend  ;  and  now  believing 
that  Dagobert  was  displeased  with  them,  they  durst  not 
address  him  further. 

"No-no-no!  It  cannot  be !  I  will  not  believe 
it !  No,  no  !  "  uttered  the  veteran.  «  I  cannot !  I  dare 
not  think  them  really  gone,"  repeated  he,  pressing  one 
hand  on  his  forehead,  and  seeking  to  recall  to  his  mem- 
ory some  probable  place  where  he  might  have  deposited 
objects  so  precious. 

A  sudden  ray  of  hope  darted  across  his  mind,  and, 
quick  as  lightning,  he  placed  on  a  chair  the  small  valise 
belonging  to  the  orphans.  It  contained  merely  a  few 
changes  of  linen,  two  black  dresses,  and  a  small  white 
box,  in  which  were  enclosed  a  silk  handkerchief  that 
had  been  their  mother's,  two  locks  of  her  hair,  and  a 
black  riband  she  generally  wore  around  her  neck.  The 

151 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


little  she  possessed  had  been  seized  by  the  Russian  gov- 
ernment when  her  estates  were  confiscated.  Dagobert 
turned  each  article  over  and  over,  searched  even  the 
very  corners  of  the  valise,  but,  alas !  he  found  not  what 
he  sought. 

And  now  completely  bewildered  and  exhausted,  the 
unhappy  man  felt  his  strength  both  of  body  and  mind 
desert  him  ;  he,  so  unmindful  of  fatigue,  so  energetic, 
so  bold,  now  felt  a  conscious  weakness  stealing  over  him, 
his  knees  tottered  under  him,  a  cold  sweat  bedewed  his 
face,  and  he  clung  to  the  chair  on  which  he  had  rested 
the  valise  to  keep  himself  from  falling. 

It  is  commonly  asserted  a  drowning  man  will  catch  at 
a  straw ;  it  is  so  with  persons  who,  however  desperate 
their  circumstances,  refuse  to  surrender  themselves  to 
despair.  Dagobert,  clinging  to  any  suggestion,  however 
fallacious,  absurd,  or  improbable,  turned  around  abruptly 
to  the  orphans  and  said,  without  recollecting  his  altered 
voice  and  looks : 

"  Tell  me  quickly !  Did  I  not  give  them  to  you  to 
keep  for  me  ?    Speak,  speak  !   Put  me  out  of  suspense." 

Instead  of  replying  to  him,  Rose  and  Blanche,  terri- 
fied at  the  paleness  of  his  countenance  and  wildness  of 
his  looks,  uttered  a  cry  of  fear  and  distress. 

"  Dear,  dear  Dagobert,"  murmured  Rose,  softly,"  what 
can  be  the  matter  with  you  ? " 

"  Have  you  got  them,  or  have  you  not  ? "  exclaimed 
the  wretched  man,  whose  brain  was  quite  unsettled  by 
the  severity  of  the  shock  he  had  sustained ;  and,  con- 
trary to  his  usual  habit,  vociferating  his  demand  in  a 
voice  of  thunder.  "  If  you  have  not,  I  will  seize  the 
first  knife  I  can  find,  and  bury  it  in  my  wretched 
heart ! " 

"  Good,  kind  Dagobert,  pray  forgive  us  if  we  have 
offended  you ! " 

"  You  love  us  too  well  to  see  us  grieve ;  so  pray  tell 
us  what  has  thus  changed  you,  Dagobert." 

152 


THE  BURGOMASTER. 


And  thus  uniting  their  tearful  petitions,  the  orphans 
extended  their  hands  in  earnest  supplication  towards  the 
soldier. 

For  a  time  the  veteran,  as  though  unconscious  that 
they  spoke,  continued  to  gaze  with  a  wild,  vacant,  hag- 
gard look  ;  but,  as  the  confusion  of  his  brain  subsided, 
and  reason  resumed  her  power,  he  became  clearly  and 
fully  aware  of  all  the  miseries  which  would  result  from 
this  last  climax  of  evil,  and  the  fearful  consequences 
that  would  follow  their  utter  privation  of  means  to  reach 
Paris ;  the  rude  soldier  felt  in  that  dread  hour  the  need 
of  some  superior  aid  to  any  earth  could  afford,  and,  fall- 
ing on  his  knees  beside  the  orphans,  and  clasping  his 
hard,  sunburnt  hands,  he  rested  his  aching  forehead 
upon  them,  and  wept  bitterly.  Yes,  the  iron-framed 
soldier  sobbed  like  an  infant,  while  he  uttered  in  broken 
accents  : 

"  Pardon,  pardon  !  Alas  I  I  know  not !  Oh,  miserable 
man  !  Oh,  misfortune  too  great  to  bear !  Pardon,  oh, 
pardon ! " 

At  this  burst  of  grief,  the  cause  of  which  they  could 
not  comprehend,  but  which,  coming  from  one  whose 
usual  firmness  and  resolution  were  so  completely  op- 
posed to  any  outward  display  of  distress,  the  sisters 
fondly  threw  their  arms  around  his  gray  head  as  it 
rested  on  the  covering  of  their  bed,  and,"  weeping  bit- 
terly, exclaimed,  "Look  up,  dear  Dagobert!  Look  at 
your  poor  children !  Tell  them  what  makes  you  so  very 
unhappy,  and  say  they  have  not  done  anything  to  cause 
your  grief." 

Advancing  steps  were  now  heard  on  the  staircase.  At 
the  same  time  Killjoy,  who  still  kept  watch  outside  the 
door,  barked  furiously.  The  nearer  the  sounds  ap- 
proached, the  more  violent  became  the  growling  of  the 
dog,  who  was  evidently  proceeding  to  more  hostile 
measures,  for  the  voice  of  the  innkeeper  was  heard 
exclaiming,  in  an  angry  tone  : 

153 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Halloa,  there,  you  !  Speak  to  your  dog,  will  you  ? 
Call  him,  I  say  !    The  burgomaster  is  coming  up-stairs." 

"Dagobert!"  cried  Rose,  "Do  you  hear  what  they 
say  ?    The  burgomaster  is  coming !  " 

"  Hark  !  "  said  Blanche.  "  Persons  are  coming  towards 
this  room." 

The  name  of  the  burgomaster  recalled  Dagobert  com- 
pletely to  himself,  and  presented  before  his  mental  vision 
the  entire  tableau  of  his  terrible  situation.  His  horse  was 
dead ;  he  had  neither  money  nor  passport,  and  a  single 
day's  delay  would  ruin  the  future  prospects  of  the  two 
poor  girls  committed  to  his  charge  with  dying  earnest- 
ness, and  render  the  fatigues  and  perils  they  had  already 
undergone  of  no  avail. 

Men  of  Dagobert' s  firm,  daring  nature  will  frequently 
survey  a  positive  and  declared  danger  with  greater 
equanimity  than  they  can  endure  the  agonising  suspense 
of  evils  whose  termination  is  all  uncertain,  and  depend- 
ent on  petty  causes,  over  which  they  have  no  control. 

But  the  plain  good  sense  of  the  veteran,  sharpened  by 
his  devoted  attachment  to  his  orphan  charges,  quickly 
pointed  out  to  him  that  his  only  hope  was  in  the  justice 
of  the  burgomaster's  decision,  and  that  his  every  effort 
must  be  directed  to  interest  that  functionary  in  his 
cause. 

Thus  resolved,  he  rose  from  his  knees,  wiped  the  tears 
from  his  eyes  on  the  corner  of  the  bedclothes  he  had 
convulsively  grasped  in  his  hand,  and,  standing  calmly 
and  erect  before  the  sisters,  said : 

"Fear  nothing,  my  dear  children!  It  must  be  the 
friend  I  trusted  would  arrive  to  serve  us." 

"  Are  you  going  to  call  your  dog  away  ?"  vociferated 
the  innkeeper,  still  prevented  from  advancing  beyond 
the  stairs  by  the  determined  vigilance  of  Killjoy,  who 
resolutely  forbade  all  further  approach  up  the  passage. 
"  Is  the  beast  mad  ?  Why  don't  you  tie  him  up  ?  You 
have  caused  mischief  enough  in  the  place,  I  think.  I 

154 


THE  BURGOMASTER. 


tell  you  that  the  burgomaster,  having  heard  the  prophet's 
account  of  the  disturbance,  now  wishes  to  learn  what 
you  have  got  to  say  for  yourself." 

Poor  Dagobert,  feeling  that  an  eventful  moment  had 
arrived,  upon  the  result  of  which  the  future  fate  of  the 
sisters  depended,  and  desirous  of  appearing  to  all  possible 
advantage  in  the  eyes  of  the  important  personage  he  was 
about  to  be  placed  before,  began  to  improve  his  personal 
appearance  by  passing  his  fingers  through  his  gray  locks, 
smoothing  his  moustache,  adjusting  the  buckle  of  his 
military  coat,  and  polishing  up  his  gold-striped  sleeves. 

Yet  the  heart  of  the  brave  fellow  beat  with  a  terror  it 
had  never  felt  when  facing  death  in  all  its  most  frightful 
forms,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  lock  of  the  door,  and, 
turning  to  the  orphans  who,  perplexed  and  affrighted  at 
so  many  strange  events,  looked  after  him  with  earnest 
and  beseeching  gaze,  said,  encouragingly : 

"  Remain  quite  still  and  quiet  in  your  bed,  my  dear 
children,  and  if  it  be  necessary  that  any  one  should  visit 
our  room,  the  burgomaster  alone  shall  enter." 

Then,  advancing  to  the  staircase,  the  soldier  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Down,  Killjoy,  down  !  " 

The  animal  obeyed  with  the  most  evident  reluctance, 
and  it  was  not  until  his  master  had  been  twice  compelled 
to  interpose  his  authority  that  he  seemed  disposed  to 
relinquish  his  hostile  intentions  towards  the  innkeeper, 
who,  holding  his  cap  in  one  hand,  and  a  lantern  in 
the  other,  respectfully  preceded  the  burgomaster,  whose 
magisterial  figure  was  concealed  by  the  shadow  of  the 
staircase. 

^  At  some  distance  behind  the  judge  might  be  indis- 
tinctly seen,  by  the  dull  glimmering  of  a  second  lantern, 
a  group  of  curious  spectators,  consisting  of  the  servants 
and  helpers  belonging  to  the  inn. 

Dagobert  having  shut  Killjoy  up  in  the  chamber  of 
the  orphans,  and  carefully  closed  the  door,  advanced  a 

155 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


few  steps  on  the  landing-place,  which  was  large  enough 
to  contain  several  persons,  and  in  one  corner  of  which 
was  a  wooden  bench  with  a  back  to  it. 

The  burgomaster,  who  had  just  reached  the  top  of  the 
stairs  as  Dagobert  closed  and  fastened  the  door,  seemed 
much  astonished  at  a  proceeding  which  seemed  like 
interdicting  his  right  of  entrance. 

"  Wherefore  do  you  close  that  door  ?"  inquired  he,  in 
an  abrupt  tone. 

"  In  the  first  place,  because  two  young  girls,  who  are 
under  my  care,  are  sleeping  there  ;  and  secondly,  because, 
should  they  overhear  your  interrogatories,  it  would  alarm 
them  very  much,"  answered  Dagobert.  "  Sit  down  here, 
M.  le  Bourgmestre,  and  put  what  questions  you  please 
to  me ;  it  is  the  same  thing  to  you,  I  suppose,  where  the 
examination  takes  place  ? " 

"  And  by  what  right  do  you  presume  to  dictate  to  me 
the  place  where  you  shall  be  examined  ? "  inquired  the 
functionary,  with  an  appearance  of  displeasure. 

"  Nay,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,"  returned  Dagobert,  dread- 
ing, above  all  things,  to  prejudice  his  visitor  against 
him  ;  "  far  be  it  from  me  to  dictate,  only,  as  the  young 
girls  are  in  bed,  and  already  much  frightened,  you  would 
be  acting  most  kindly  towards  them  if  you  would  be  so 
good  as  to  interrogate  me  here." 

"  Humph  !  — here  !  "  returned  the  magistrate,  grum- 
bling. "  A  pretty  thing  for  a  person  like  me  to  be 
dragged  out  of  bed  at  this  hour  of  the  night!  Well, 
be  it  so.  I  will  examine  you  here,  then,  since  you 
desire  it."  Then,  turning  to  the  innkeeper,  he  said, 
"  Set  down  your  lantern  on  that  bench,  and  leave  us." 

The  landlord  obeyed,  and  departed  with  his  followers, 
equally  disappointed  with  them  that  he  was  not  permitted 
to  be  present  at  the  examination. 

The  old  soldier  was  now  left  alone  with  the  burgo- 
master. 


156 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE  INVESTIGATION. 

The  worthy  burgomaster  of  Mockern,  attired  in  a 
cloth  cap  and  large  cloak,  seated  himself  on  the  bench, 
which  groaned  beneath  his  ponderous  weight;  he  was 
an  excessively  stout  man,  about  sixty  years  of  age,  his 
countenance  was  morose  and  forbidding,  and  he  kept 
continually  applying  his  large  red  hands  to  rub  his  eyes, 
which  were  evidently  suffering  from  the  unusually  early 
hour  at  which  he  had  been  compelled  to  throw  off  his 
slumbers. 

Dagobert,  standing  beside  him,  holding  his  old  mili- 
tary cap  in  his  hands,  waited  his  inquiries  with  an  air 
of  respectful  submission,  while,  with  a  timid  glance  at 
the  harsh,  repulsive  features  of  the  magistrate,  he  sought 
to  read  what  hopes  there  were  for  his  cause,  or  rather 
that  of  the  poor  orphans.  During  these  trying  moments 
the  old  soldier  called  to  his  aid  all  his  coolness,  reason, 
eloquence,  and  resolution.  He  who  had  twenty  times 
looked  on  death  with  calm  indifference  and  despised 
danger ;  he  who,  self-possessed  and  firm,  because  tried 
and  sincere,  had  never  even  lowered  his  glance  before 

the  eagle  eye  of  his  emperor  —  his  hero,  his  divinity  

now  found  himself  trembling  and  utterly  confused  before 
the  gaze  of  a  scowling  provincial  functionary. 

So  had  he  also  brought  himself  to  endure  with  imper- 
turbable resignation  the  taunts  and  insults  of  the  prophet 
on  the  preceding  evening,  that  he  might  not,  by  indulg- 
ing in  suggestions  of  his  own  chafed  spirit,  in  any  manner 

157 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


compromise  the  sacred  mission  entrusted  to  him  by  a 
dying  mother ;  thus  proving  the  heroism  and  self-denial 
a  simple  upright  heart  can  attain. 

"  Come,  make  haste !  Let's  hear  what  you  have  to 
say  in  your  defence !  "  said  the  judge,  in  a  brutal  tone, 
yawning  at  the  same  time  with  impatient  drowsiness. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  defend,  M.  le  Bourgmestre ;  on 
the  contrary,  I  have  a  complaint  to  make,"  answered 
Dagobert,  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  Are  you  going  to  teach  me,  fellow,  in  what  form  I 
am  to  put  my  questions  ?  "  exclaimed  the  magistrate,  in 
so  sharp  a  manner  that  the  veteran,  blaming  himself  for 
having  so  badly  opened  the  conversation,  and  earnestly 
seeking  to  propitiate  his  judge,  hastened  to  reply  sub- 
missively : 

"  Your  pardon,  M.  le  Bourgmestre  !  I  expressed  my- 
self badly.  I  only  wished  to  say  that  I  have  been  in  no 
way  to  blame  in  the  late  affair." 

"  The  prophet  says  differently." 

"  The  prophet ! "  repeated  Dagobert,  with  a  con- 
temptuous smile. 

"  A  most  pious,  worthy  man !  "  added  the  judge ; 
"  quite  incapable  of  uttering  a  falsehood ! " 

"  That  is  a  point  on  which  I  have  nothing  to  say,  M. 
le  Bourgmestre ;  but  you  are  too  good  and  too  just  to 
decide  without  hearing  me.  It  is  easy  to  perceive  you 
are  not  the  sort  of  person  to  deny  justice  to  any  one.  I 
feel  quite  sure  of  that,"  added  Dagobert,  who,  in  thus 
playing  a  courtier's  part  against  his  own  inclinations, 
endeavoured  to  render  his  performance  still  more  correct 
by  softening  his  voice  and  enlivening  his  austere  features 
with  a  smiling,  conciliating,  and  winning  expression. 
"  A  man  like  you,"  continued  the  soldier,  redoubling  his 
flattery,  "  a  judge  so  highly  respectable,  does  not  hear 
with  one  ear  only." 

"  Ears  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,  but,  as  far 
as  '  seeing '  goes,  is  '  believing.'    Why,  my  eyes,  which 

158 


THE  INVESTIGATION. 


smart  as  though  they  had  been  rubbed  with  nettles,  have 
seen  the  hand  of  the  master  of  these  wild  beasts,  and  it 
is  dreadfully  torn." 

"  I  don't  dispute  that,  M.  le  Bourgmestre ;  but  only 
consider,  if  he  had  secured  his  door  and  the  cages  of 
his  animals  properly,  none  of  this  mischief  would  have 
happened.', 

"  Yes,  it  would.  It  was  all  your  fault.  You  ought 
to  have  fastened  your  horse  more  carefully  to  his 
manger." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  quite  right, 
nobody  can  speak  more  sensibly,"  said  the  poor  soldier, 
increasing  in  soft  conciliation  and  flattery  in  proportion 
as  he  perceived  the  prejudiced  view  his  interrogator  had 
already  taken  of  the  case.  " It  is  not  for  a  poor  devil 
like  me  to  contradict  you !  But  suppose  now  that  any 
one,  for  mischief's  sake,  had  untied  my  horse,  and  led 
him  into  the  menagerie,  you  would  say  then,  would  you 
not,  that  it  was  not  my  fault  ?  or,  at  least,"  said  the  old 
man,  fearing  he  had  gone  too  far,  «  you  will  admit  that 
fact  if  it  is  your  pleasure  to  think  so  ;  because  it  is  not 
for  such  as  I  am  to  dictate  to  you !  " 

"  And  what,  in  the  devil's  name,  leads  you  to  suppose 
anybody  has  played  you  such  a  trick  ?  What  motive 
could  they  have  had  ? " 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  imagine,  M.  le  Bourgmestre  • 
but  still  —  " 

"But  still  you  don't  know!  Well,  no  more  do  I," 
exclaimed  the  burgomaster,  in  a  peevish  tone;  then 
added,  impatiently:  "Here's  a  mighty  fuss  and  coil 
about  the  carcass  of  a  dead  horse ! " 

The  countenance  of  the  old  soldier  at  these  words  lost 
all  its  assumed  gentleness,  its  harsh  expression  returned, 
and  he  replied,  in  a  serious  and  agitated  voice : 

"  True,  but  a  carcass  remains  of  my  old  friend,  my 

faithful  horse,  who  but  a  few  hours  ago  was  so  full  of 
health  and  courage,  and,  though  old,  still  so  intelligent 

159 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


and  vigorous.  Scarcely  an  hour  ago  he  neighed  joyfully 
at  me  as  I  gave  him  his  meal,  and  each  night  he  licked 
the  hands  of  the  dear  children  he  carried  through  the 
long  day,  even  as  he  had  borne  their  mother.  But  now 
he  will  never  rejoice  in  my  approach,  never  again  carry 
his  kind  mistress  or  her  children  ;  he  is  fit  but  to  be 
thrown  on  the  dunghill  and  to  become  the  food  of  dogs, 
that  is  all  he  is  good  for  now.  It  was  not  worth  while, 
M.  le  Bourgmestre,  to  recall  all  this  to  me  so  cruelly,  for 
I  dearly  loved  my  poor  horse." 

These  words,  pronounced  with  a  simple,  dignified 
manner  and  tone,  made  the  functionary  feel  sorry  that 
he  had  provoked  the  regrets  of  a  man  who  thus  loved 
even  a  horse ;  he  hastily  interrupted  Dagobert,  saying, 
in  a  voice  of  greater  kindness : 

"  I  can  suppose  you  regret  the  loss  of  your  beast ;  but 
what  can  be  said  ?  It  is  an  accident,  and  you  must  bear 
it.    I  will  even  say  it  is  a  misfortune." 

"  A  misfortune,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  of  the  deepest  con- 
sequences. The  two  young  girls  whom  I  am  accompany- 
ing are  not  strong  enough  to  undertake  a  long  journey 
on  foot,  and  are  too  poor  to  travel  by  any  public  convey- 
ance ;  and  yet  it  is  indispensable  that  we  should  be  in 
Paris  before  the  month  of  February.  I  promised  the 
mother  of  these  children,  on  her  death-bed,  to  conduct 
them  to  the  time  and  place  she  desired.  And  the  poor 
things  have  no  one  in  the  world  to  protect  them  but 
me." 

"  You,  then,  are  their  —  " 

"  Most  faithful  friend  and  servant,  M.  le  Bourgmestre  ; 
and  now  that  they  have  killed  my  horse,  how  shall  I  be 
able  to  proceed  on  my  journey  ?  You  who  look  so  good 
and  speak  so  kind  have,  perhaps,  children  of  your  own. 
Oh,  if  they  should  ever  be  situated  as  my  poor  orphans 
are,  with  no  other  possessions  in  the  world  than  an  old 
soldier,  and  an  equally  aged  horse  ;  if,  after  having 
been  born  and  reared  in  misery,  for  these  dear  children 

160 


THE  INVESTIGATION. 


were  born  in  exile,  where  their  poor  mother  died ;  if, 
after  passing  their  early  days  in  sorrow  and  banishment, 
a  bright  future  awaited  them  at  the  end  of  this  journey, 
and  if  this  journey  were  rendered  impossible  by  the  loss 
of  the  horse,  would  not  their  painful  position  move  you 
to  pity  them  ?  And  would  you  not,  like  me,  look  upon 
the  death  of  your  horse  as  an  irreparable  misfortune  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  should,"  answered  the  burgomaster,  who 
was  not  a  bad-hearted  man,  though  hasty  and  abrupt  in 
the  discharge  of  his  duty,  and  who  began  to  feel  a 
powerful  sympathy  with  the  sorrows  of  the  old  soldier. 
"  And  I  can  well  believe  the  loss  of  your  beast  is  a  most 
serious  loss  to  you ;  but  I  feel  interested  in  the  fate  of 
your  orphan  children ;  what  are  their  ages  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  years  and  two  months.  They  are  twin 
sisters." 

"Fifteen  years  and  two  months!  Very  nearly  the 
same  age  as  my  Frederica." 

"  You  have,  then,  a  daughter  of  similar  age  ? "  in- 
quired Dagobert,  fresh  hope  springing  up  at  the  idea. 
"  Thank  Heaven  !  For  now,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  the  fate 
of  my  poor  orphans  no  longer  disquiets  me.  You,  a  wise 
and  upright  judge,  and,  moreover,  a  parent,  will  see 
justice  done  us." 

"Of  course  I  shall.  What  is  the  use  of  my  being  a 
magistrate  else  ?  But  really,  in  this  affair  between  you 
and  the  prophet,  I  think  the  case  is  pretty  equal.  On 
the  one  hand,  you  failed  in  securing  your  horse  properly 
in  his  stable ;  he  gets  out.  Well,  then  the  beast-tamer 
leaves  his  menagerie  door  open.  Then  he  asserts,  <  I 
have  been  wounded  in  the  hand.'  To  which  you  reply, 
6  My  horse  has  been  killed,  and,  for  various  reasons,  the 
loss  of  my  horse  is  irreparable.'  " 

"  You  express  my  meaning  far  better  than  I  could  do 
it  myself,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,"  said  the  veteran,  with  a 
humble  and  quiescent  smile.  "  That  is  just  the  sense  of 
what  I  should  say  if  I  were  to  talk  for  an  hour,  for  even 

161 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


you,  M.  le  Magistrat,  admit  that  the  horse  his  beast 
killed  was  all  I  possessed  in  the  world,  and  that, 
therefore,  it  is  but  just  —  " 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  replied  the  burgomaster,  inter- 
rupting the  soldier,  «  your  reasoning  is  excellent ;  besides, 
the  prophet,  who  is  as  clever  as  he  is  pious  and  good, 
has  very  clearly  laid  all  the  facts  of  the  case  before  me, 
added  to  which,  he  is  well  known  here.  You  see  we  are 
all  devout  Catholics  in  this  village,  and  this  holy  man 
sells  exceedingly  cheap  and  wondrously  edifying  books 
among  our  young  people ;  then  he  lets  our  wives  and 
daughters  have  his  rosaries,  chaplets,  and  Agnus  Dei 
almost  at  a  loss.  To  be  sure,  as  you  will  justly  observe, 
that  has  not  much  to  do  with  the  present  affair.  Nor 
more  it  has ;  and  yet  I  declare,  upon  my  conscience  as 
an  honest  man,  that  when  I  came  up-stairs  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  —  " 

"  To  decide  against  me  !  Was  it  not  so,  M.  le  Bourg- 
mestre  ?  "  returned  Dagobert,  becoming  each  instant  more 
reassured  as  to  his  success.  "  Ah,  that  was  because  you 
were  only  half  awake.  Your  justice  had  only  opened 
one  eye." 

"  Good,  my  friend  !  "  answered  the  burgomaster,  now 
roused  into  perfect  serenity  of  temper ;  "  it  may  be  as 
you  say,  —  for,  at  my  first  coming  hither,  I  did  not  con- 
ceal from  Morok  that  I  considered  he  was  the  party 
aggrieved,  and  should  decide  accordingly ;  when  he  very 
generously  remarked,  <  Then,  since  you  pronounce  in  my 
favour,  I  will  not  aggravate  the  position  of  my  adversary 
by  telling  you  what  I  otherwise  could  concerning  him.'  " 

"  Concerning  me,  and  to  my  prejudice  ?  " 

"  So  it  would  seem ;  but,  like  a  generous  enemy,  he 
was  silent,  after  I  had  assured  him  that,  according  to 
appearances,  I  should  sentence  you  (conditionally)  to 
make  him  an  ample  atonement  for  the  pain  and  trouble 
you  had  occasioned  him ;  for  I  will  candidly  inform  you 
that,  before  you  had  adduced  such  good  reasons  to  make 

162 


THE  INVESTIGATION. 


me  think  you  less  to  blame  than  I  had  been  led  to  be- 
lieve you  were,  I  had  fully  resolved  on  adjudging  you  to 
pay  a  very  heavy  indemnity  to  the  prophet  for  the  wound 
inflicted  through  your  carelessness  on  his  hand." 

"  You  see  now,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  how  possible  it  is 
for  even  the  most  just  and  clever  men  to  be  deceived ; 
however,  the  wiser  the  man  the  readier  he  is  to  acknowl- 
edge his  error;  and  no  prophet,  witch,  or  wizard  can 
hinder  him  from  seeing  clearly  at  last,"  added  Dagobert, 
reassuming  his  flattering  tone  and  manner,  hoping,  by 
increased  attention  to  his  judge,  to  win  his  favourable 
consideration  for  his  just  demand  for  the  means  of  pros- 
ecuting his  journey  without  delay. 

The  burgomaster  appeared,  however,  to  take  little  note 
of  the  veteran's  strenuous  attempts  to  place  himself  and 
his  cause  in  a  propitious  light,  until,  looking  up,  he  per- 
ceived the  chuckling,  self-satisfied  air  of  Dagobert,  whose 
countenance  seemed  to  say,  «  What  do  you  think  of  my 
powers  of  persuasion  ?  I  am  quite  surprised  at  my  own 
skill  and  manoeuvres."  Upon  which  the  magistrate 
smiled— a  smile  of  paternal  patronage;  then  added, 
with  a  miserable  attempt  at  a  joke : 

"  Ay>  ay,  you  are  right  about  clever  men,  and  being 
convinced ;  and  the  prophet  will  turn  out  a  false  prophet 
this  time.  No,  no,  I  shall  not  inflict  any  penalty  upon 
you,  because  I  think  one  has  as  much  to  complain  of  as 
the  other,  and  so  one  piece  of  mischief  makes  up  for  the 
other ;  he  has  received  a  severe  wound,  and  your  horse 
has  been  killed,  so  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  even  with 
one  another." 

"  And  how  much  do  you  suppose  he  ought  to  pay 
me  ?"  inquired  the  soldier,  with  singular  simplicitv 
"  What  is  that  you  say  ? " 

"  I  ask,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  the  amount  of  the  sum  he 
shall  give  me?" 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  talking  about  ?  What  sum  ? " 
"Yes,  the  sum.    But,  before  you  name  it,  M.  le 

163 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Bourgmestre,  I  must  tell  you  one  thing  —  I  consider 
that  I  have  a  right  to  employ  the  money  as  I  please ; 
therefore  I  shall  not  expend  it  all  in  the  purchase  of  a 
horse.  I  am  quite  sure  that,  among  the  country  people 
in  the  environs  of  Leipsic,  I  shall  find  a  horse  at  a  cheap 
price ;  and  I  will  even  go  so  far  as  to  own,  between  our- 
selves, that  if  even  I  could  meet  with  a  good  strong  ass, 
I  would  try  to  make  shift  with  it  —  not  that  I  should 
like  it  nearly  so  well.  But  another  horse  would  be 
almost  painful  to  me,  after  my  poor  Jovial,  the  compan- 
ion of  so  many  journeys ;  therefore,  I  ought  to  say  to 
you  —  " 

"  What  are  you  gabbling  about  ? "  cried  the  burgo- 
master, interrupting  Dagobert.  "  And  what  money,  ass, 
or  other  horse  are  you  talking  of  ?  I  tell  you  again,  that 
you  owe  nothing  to  the  prophet,  neither  does  he  owe  you 
anything !  " 

"  Not  owe  me  anything  ? " 

"  You  have  a  very  thick  skull,  my  good  man ;  there 
seems  no  knocking  any  sense  into  it.  I  tell  you  once 
more,  and  for  the  last  time,  that  if  the  wild  beasts 
belonging  to  the  prophet  have  killed  your  horse,  the 
prophet  himself  has  been  severely  wounded,  so  you  are 
even  with  each  other ;  or,  if  you  like  it  better,  I  will  say 
that  he  has  nothing  to  repay  you,  neither  have  you 
him.    Now  have  I  made  you  comprehend  ?  " 

Dagobert,  quite  stupefied  at  finding  his  hopes  thus 
destroyed  by  so  unfair  a  decision,  remained  for  some 
time  regarding  the  burgomaster  with  an  expression  of 
deep  anguish  of  mind. 

At  length  he  replied,  in  a  voice  in  which  powerful 
emotion  strove  against  his  forced  calmness : 

"  Nay,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  you  are,  I  am  sure,  too  just 
to  overlook  one  circumstance.  The  wound  received  by 
the  owner  of  the  beasts  will  not  prevent  his  continuing 
his  daily  occupation,  while  the  death  of  my  horse  entirely 
prevents  me  from  proceeding  on  my  journey.  Surely 

164 


THE  INVESTIGATION. 


that  ought  to  make  a  great  difference  between  us, 
and  call  for  his  indemnifying  me  for  the  loss  I  have 
sustained. " 

The  magistrate,  as  we  before  stated,  thought  he  had 
done  much  for  Dagobert  in  excusing  him  from  making 
any  recompense  to  the  prophet,  who,  as  was  previously 
stated,  was  in  the  habit  of  currying  favour  with  the 
female  part  of  the  village,  by  selling  them  cheap  articles 
of  a  religious  character,  such  as  rosaries,  chaplets,  and 
other  trifles,  said  to  be  endowed  with  marvellous  powers  ; 
he  also  vended  spiritual  pamphlets  and  Scriptural  tracts, 
at  so  small  a  price  as  rendered  him,  combined  with  the 
reported  sanctity  of  his  life,  an  excessive  favourite 
among  all  the  strict  Catholics  in  the  place ;  added  to 
this,  he  was  well  known  to  be  powerfully  aided  and  pro- 
tected by  persons  of  high  rank  and  power,  so  that  it 
became  no  easy  matter  to  decide  any  point  against 
him. 

Thus,  then,  the  importunity  of  the  soldier  greatly  dis- 
pleased his  judge,  who,  resuming  his  original  harsh  and 
severe  aspect,  replied,  angrily : 

"  Do  you  wish  to  make  me  regret  my  impartiality  ? 
What,  instead  of  thanking  me,  you  have  the  face  to 
make  further  demands  ?  " 

"  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  I  ask  but  for  that  which  is  just 
and  right.  I  would  gladly  suffer  my  hand  to  be  more 
severely  injured  than  is  that  of  the  prophet,  so  I  could 
but  continue  my  journey." 

"  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  what  you  would  like  or 
dislike.  I  have  pronounced  judgment,  —  the  case  is 
ended." 

"  But,  M.  le  Bourgmestre  —  " 

"  Enough,  enough,  I  tell  you !  No  more  of  it.  Let 
us  proceed  to  the  next  thing.  Show  me  your  passport 
and  papers." 

"  Yes,  we  will  talk  about  the  papers  directly ;  but,  I 
beseech  you,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  to  have  pity  on  the  two 

165 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


poor  children  yonder,  —  give  us  the  means  of  proceeding 
on  our  journey,  and  —  " 

" 1  tel1  you  I  have  done  all  that  I  can  do,  perhaps 
more  than  I  ought  to  have  done.  Once  again,  let  me 
see  your  papers !  " 

"  Let  me  first  explain  to  you  —  " 

"  I  will  listen  to  no  explanations.  Your  papers,  I  say ! 
Do  you  mean  to  make  me  send  you  to  prison  as  a  rogue 
and  vagabond  ?  " 

"  Me  !    Send  me  to  prison  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  shall,  if  you  refuse  to  give  me  your 
papers.  Unless  you  immediately  produce  them,  I  shall 
treat  you  as  though  you  had  none  to  produce ;  and,  in 
that  case,  I  have  no  alternative  but  to  arrest  you  as  a 
suspicious  character,  and  place  you  under  confinement, 
until  the  proper  authorities  have  decided  what  shall  be 
done  with  you.  Now,  then,  if  you  please,  these  papers  \ 
and  let  us  be  quick,  for  I  want  to  get  home  again." 

The  position  of  Dagobert  was  the  more  insupportably 
trying  from  the  false  hope  which  had,  until  the  last  few 
minutes,  induced  him  to  believe  justice  would  certainly 
be  done  him. 

This  last  blow  was  the  climax  of  all  the  misery  the 

veteran  had  endured  through  this  eventful  night,  a  trial 

as  severe  as  dangerous  to  a  man  of  Dagobert's  firm, 
honest,  but  unbending  nature,  who,  long  inured  to  the 
proud  satisfaction  of  being  honoured  and  esteemed  as  a 
soldier  who  had  victoriously  shed  his  blood  for  his  coun- 
try, and  regarded  by  his  superiors  with  confidence  and 
esteem,  had  rather  indulged  in  a  contemptuous  despotism 
towards  all  mere  "  bourgeois,"  like  the  magistrate  who 
now  held  his  fate  in  his  hands. 

At  the  oft-repeated  words,  "  Your  papers,"  the  old 
soldier's  colour  fled  his  cheeks  and  lips  ;  the  blood 
seemed  to  retreat  from  his  heart  at  the  thoughts  of  beino* 
ignominiously  dragged  to  prison  at  so  critical  a  moment5, 
but  still  striving  to  conquer  the  agony  of  his  feelings, 

166 


THE  INVESTIGATION. 


and  veil  his  fears  beneath  an  appearance  of  confidence, 
which  might,  after  all,  win  the  magistrate  to  befriend 
him,  he  said : 

"  I  will  tell  you,  in  two  words,  M.  le  Bourgmestre, 
how  I  am  situated  at  present,  —  the  thing  is  simple 
enough,  and  might  happen  to  any  one.  I  do  not  look 
like  a  rogue  or  vagabond,  do  I  ?  And  yet  you  can  im- 
agine that  a  man  like  me,  travelling  with  two  young 
girls  —  " 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  make  all  this  parleying 
about  ?   Produce  your  papers  and  have  done  ! " 

At  this  juncture,  two  unexpected  allies  arrived  to 
assist  the  old  soldier,  —  the  orphans,  whose  uneasiness 
momentarily  increased  as  they  heard  Dagobert's  voice 
still  earnestly  engaged  in  conversation  ;  they  therefore 
arose  and  dressed  themselves,  so  that,  at  the  instant 
that  the  magistrate  was  loudly  exclaiming,  "  What  is  all 
this  talk  about?  Deliver  up  your  papers  instantly," 
Rose  and  Blanche  came  out  on  the  staircase,  holding 
each  other  by  the  hand. 

At  the  sight  of  these  young  and  lovely  beings, 
rendered  still  more  interesting  by  their  humble  dress  of 
entire  mourning,  the  burgomaster  rose  from  his  seat 
struck  with  sudden  surprise  and  admiration. 

By  a  simultaneous  movement,  each  sister  clung  to  the 
side  of  their  old  friend,  and  taking  each  of  them  one  of 
his  large  hands  in  theirs,  looked  up  in  the  face  of  the 
magistrate  with  a  timid  yet  ingenuous  glance. 

A  more  exquisitely  touching  group  can  scarcely  be 
imagined  than  was  thus  presented,  —  the  rough,  toil  worn 
soldier,  standing  between  the  young  and  delicate  chil- 
dren, clinging  to  him  in  trustful  love,  while  he  seemed 
as  though  presenting  their  youth  and  innocence  to  the 
eyes  of  his  judge,  in  warranty  of  his  own  integrity  and 
honour  in  being  thus  accompanied. 

Unstudied  as  had  been  the  scene,  it  had  its  full  effect 
upon  the  magistrate,  and  again  filled  his  heart  with  com- 

167 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


miseration  for  their  orphan  state.  The  veteran  quickly 
remarked  the  change  in  the  austere  countenance  of  the 
burgomaster,  and,  advancing  towards  him,  holding  the 
sisters  by  the  hand,  he  said : 

"  Behold  these  poor  helpless  orphan  girls,  M.  le  Bourg- 
mestre !    What  better  passport  could  you  desire  ?  " 

And  overcome  by  a  crowd  of  painful  and  long  re- 
pressed feelings,  the  eyes  of  Dagobert  filled  with  large 
drops  which  threatened  to  overflow. 

Although  naturally  abrupt  and  rendered  still  more 
churlish  by  being  disturbed  out  of  his  sleep,  the  burgo- 
master was,  in  reality,  neither  deficient  in  good  sense  nor 
feeling,  and  he  felt  how  impossible  it  was  to  suspect  or 
mistrust  a  man  thus  accompanied. 

"  Poor  dear  children! "  said  he,  examining  them  with 
increased  attention.  "  Orphans  at  so  early  an  age  !  And 
they  come  from  some  distance,  you  say  ? " 

"  From  the  most  distant  part  of  Siberia,  M.  le  Bourg- 
mestre,  where  their  mother  was  exiled  before  they  were 
born.  We  have  already  been  five  months  on  our  jour- 
ney, coming  short  distances  at  a  time ;  that  is  no  small 
hardship  for  young  creatures  like  them.  It  is  for  them 
alone  I  seek  your  favour  and  kind  assistance  —  for  these 
poor  things,  who  seem  doomed  to  misfortune.  For  just 
now,  when  I  went  to  look  for  my  papers,  in  the  bag  I 
always  carried  them  in,  I  could  neither  find  the  pocket- 
book  in  which  I  had  placed  them,  my  purse,  nor  my 
cross  ;  for,  excuse  me,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  I  do  not  say  it 
to  boast  of  myself,  but  I  have  been  decorated  by  the 
emperor's  own  hand  with  the  cross  of  honour,  and  a  man 
whom  his  hand  thus  distinguished  cannot  be  a  bad  man, 
though  he  may  unfortunately  have  lost  his  papers  and  his 
money  ;  so  now  you  see  exactly  how  we  are  circum- 
stanced, and  why  I  was  so  earnest  about  being  indemnified 
for  the  loss  of  my  horse." 

"  And  where,  and  in  what  manner,  did  you  lose  these 
things  ?  " 

168 


THE  INVESTIGATION. 


"  I  know  not,  M.  le  Bourgmestre.  I  am  quite  sure  that 
the  evening  before  last  I  took  a  small  sum  of  money  out 
of  my  purse,  and  that  I  then  saw  the  pocket-book  quite 
safe.  The  money,  trifling  as  it  was,  supplied  all  our 
wants  through  yesterday,  so  that  I  had  no  occasion  to 
undo  the  bag  again." 

"  And  yesterday,  and  up  to  the  present  minute,  where 
has  your  bag  been  kept  ?  " 

"  Through  the  day,  while  travelling,  with  ourselves  ; 
at  night,  in  the  room  where  these  children  slept.  But 
this  night  —  " 

Dagobert  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps.    It  was  the  prophet. 

Concealed  in  the  dark  shadow  of  the  staircase,  he  had 
overheard  this  conversation,  and  hastened,  by  his 
presence,  to  prevent  the  full  accomplishment  of  his 
schemes,  almost  realised,  from  being  destroyed  by  the 
weakness  and  vacillation  of  the  burgomaster. 


169 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE  RESULT. 

Morok,  who  carried  his  left  arm  in  a  sling,  ascended 
the  staircase  slowly,  and  saluted  the  burgomaster  respect- 
fully. 

At  the  sight  of  the  sinister  aspect  of  the  brute-con- 
queror, Rose  and  Blanche  shuddered,  and  drew  closer  to 
the  soldier,  whose  cheek  burned  again  as  he  felt  his  gall 
rise  against  Morok,  the  cause  of  his  distressing  embar- 
rassment. He  was  not  aware,  besides,  that  Goliath  had, 
at  the  instigation  of  the  prophet,  stolen  his  pocket-book 
and  papers. 

"  What  seek  you,  Morok  ?  "  inquired  the  burgomaster, 
with  an  air  half  kind,  half  angry.  «  I  told  the  innkeeper 
I  wished  to  be  alone." 

"  I  came  to  render  you  a  service,  M.  le  Bourgmestre." 

"  A  service  ?  " 
.  "  A  great  service ;  but  for  which  I  should  not  have 
disturbed  you.    But  a  scruple  has  arisen  in  my  mind." 

"  A  scruple  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  have  reproached  myself  for  not  having 
told  you  all  I  knew  of  this  man ;  but  I  was  deterred  by 
a  false  feeling  of  pity." 

"  Well,  what  then  have  you  to  disclose  ? " 

Morok  approached  the  judge,  and  spoke  to  him  for 
some  time  in  an  undertone. 

The  burgomaster  appeared  at  first  greatly  astonished, 

170 


THE  RESULT. 


and  then  very  attentive  and  anxious.  From  time  to 
time  an  expression  of  surprise  escaped  him,  then  of 
doubt,  looking,  as  he  did  so,  at  Dagobert  and  the  two 
young  girls. 

By  these  looks,  which  grew  darker  and  more  uneasy, 
it  was  easy  to  perceive  that  the  whispering  of  the  prophet 
affected  and  destroyed  the  interest  which  the  magistrate 
had  at  first  expressed  for  the  orphans  and  the  soldier, 
converting  the  feeling  of  kindness  into  mistrust  and 
hostility. 

Dagobert  saw  this  sudden  change,  and  his  fears, 
allayed  for  the  moment,  revived  in  double  force.  Rose 
and  Blanche  looked  at  the  soldier  in  amazement  and 
anxiety,  unable  to  comprehend  what  was  passing. 

"The  devil!"  said  the  burgomaster,  rising  hastily. 
"  I  could  never  have  believed  it !  What  could  I  have 
been  thinking  of  ?  But  you  see,  Morok,  when  a  man  is 
aroused  in  the  middle  of  the  night  he  has  not  all  his 
wits  about  him  so  readily;  but  I  fully  appreciate  the 
great  service  you  have  rendered  me,  and  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you." 

"  Mind,  I  do  not  say  it  is  all  certain,  but  " 

"Never  mind,  it's  a  thousand  to  one  that  you  are 
perfectly  correct." 

#  "  It  is  only  my  suspicion,  founded,  it  is  true,  on  certain 

circumstances ;  but  still,  only  a  suspicion  " 

«  May  lead  us  to  the  direct  truth.  And  here  was  I, 
going  like  a  bird  into  the  snare !  Again,  I  say,  where 
was  my  sense  when  —  " 

"It  is  difficult  to  find  excuse  for  certain  appear- 
ances — "  , 

"To  whom  do  you  allude,  my  dear  Morok?  To 
whom  ?  " 

During  this  mysterious  conversation  Dagobert  was  on 
thorns ;  he  felt  all  the  presentiment  of  a  storm  that  was 
bursting  upon  him,  and  only  considered  how  he  should 
repress  his  rage. 

171 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Morok  went  closer  to  the  judge,  and,  pointing  to  the 
orphan  girls  again,  began  to  speak  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Ah,"  cried  the  burgomaster,  with  indignation, "  now 
you  are  going  too  far." 

"  I  affirm  nothing,"  said  Morok,  hastily ;  "  it  is  a 
simple  presumption  based  on  —  " 

And  again  he  whispered  in  the  judge's  ear. 

"  After  all,  why  not  ? "  said  the  judge,  raising  his 
hands  to  heaven.  "  Such  people  are  capable  of  any- 
thing. He  said,  too,  he  had  come  from  the  farther  end 
of  Siberia  with  them  ;  that  proves  that  his  whole  tale  is 
but  a  pack  of  lies.  But  nobody  makes  a  fool  of  me 
twice,"  exclaimed  the  burgomaster,  in  a  wrathful  tone ; 
for,  like  all  persons  of  a  weak  and  fickle  mind,  he  had 
no  mercy  towards  those  whom  he  thought  capable  of 
practising  any  deceit  on  him. 

"  Do  not,  however,  decide  too  hastily,"  said  Morok,  in 
a  voice  of  hypocritical  pity  and  compunction.  "  Do  not 
allow  my  words  to  have  more  weight  than  is  really  due 
to  them.  My  position  with  this  man  (pointing  to  Dago- 
bert)  is  unfortunately  so  false  that  it  might  be  imagined 
that  I  was  acting  from  resentment  of  the  ill  he  has 
caused  me ;  and  perhaps,  unknown  to  myself,  I  may  be 
so  influenced,  whilst  I  am  supposing  that  I  am  solely 
impelled  by  a  love  of  justice,  a  horror  of  falsehood,  and 
profound  reverence  for  our  holy  religion.  He  who  lives 
longest  will  see  most,  —  may  the  Lord  pardon  me  if  I 
err !  Let  justice  be  done !  If  they  are  innocent,  they 
will  be  free  in  a  month  or  two." 

"  That  is  why  I  shall  not  hesitate ;  it  is  but  a  simple 
measure  of  prudence,  and  they  will  not  die  by  that. 
Besides,  the  more  I  reflect,  the  more  probable  it  seems 
to  me.  Yes,  this  man  is  a  spy  or  French  agitator, 
particularly  when  we  place  beside  these  suspicions  the 
display  of  the  students  of  Frankfort." 

"  And  supposing  it  to  be  so,  there  is  nothing  which 
would  excite  and  inflame  the  heads  of  those  young  fools 

172 


THE  RESULT. 


like  — "  and  Morok  gave  a  quick  and  meaning  glance 
at  the  two  sisters  ;  then,  after  a  moment's  significant 
silence,  he  added,  with  a  sigh,  "  The  Evil  One  avails 
himself  of  all  means." 

"  Certainly  it  is  a  detestable  idea,  but  therefore  the 
more  skilfully  designed.'' 

"  Then,  sir,  look  attentively  at  this  man.  Did  you 
ever  see  a  more  dangerous  countenance  ?  Look  !  "  and 
as  he  whispered,  Morok  pointed  at  Dagobert. 

In  spite  of  the  control  he  exercised  over  himself,  the 
constraint  he  had  displayed  since  his  arrival  in  this 
cursed  auberge,  and  particularly  since  the  commence- 
ment of  Morok's  conversation  with  the  burgomaster,  yet 
he  could  no  longer  restrain  himself.  He  saw  too  clearly 
that  his  efforts  to  conciliate  the  judge  were  utterly 
destroyed  by  the  fatal  influence  and  interference  of  the 
brute-tamer;  and,  losing  all  patience,  he  went  up  to 
him,  and,  folding  his  arms  across  his  chest,  said  to  him, 
in  a  constrained  tone : 

"  Are  you  talking  of  me  to  the  burgomaster  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Morok,  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  Then  why  not  speak  out  ? " 

The  convulsive  twitches  of  the  thick  moustaches  of 
Dagobert,  who  having  uttered  these  words  looked  stead- 
fastly into  Morok's  very  eyes,  betokened  the  violent 
contest  which  was  working  within  him.  Seeing  that 
his  adversary  kept  up  a  provoking  silence,  he  said  to 
him,  in  a  louder  voice  : 

"  I  ask  you  why  you  speak  in  whispers  to  the  burgo- 
master, if  I  was  the  subject  of  your  conversation  ?  " 

"  Because  there  are  things  so  shameful  that  one  would 
blush  to  pronounce  them  aloud,"  replied  Morok,  insult- 
ingly. 

Dagobert  had  till  then  kept  his  arms  folded,  but  he 
suddenly  extended  them  with  his  fists  clenched.  This 
rapid  movement  was  so  expressive  that  the  two  sisters 
came  to  him,  uttering  a  cry  of  alarm. 

173 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Mister  Burgomaster,"  said  the  soldier,  from  between 
his  clenched  teeth,  «  bid  this  man  depart,  or  I  will  not 
answer  for  myself  !  " 

"  What !  "  said  the  burgomaster,  angrily.    «  Do  you 

give  your  orders  to  me  ?    Do  you  dare  " 

« I  tell  you  to  desire  this  man  to  depart,"  said  Dago- 
bert,  whose  anger  was  now  unrestrained,  «  or  something 
will  happen  to  him  !  " 

"Dagobert,  man  Dieuf  Calm  yourself!"  exclaimed 
the  children,  taking  hold  of  his  hands. 

"  It  is  just  like  a  miserable  vagabond  as  you  are,  to 
give  your  orders  here !  "  replied  the  burgomaster,  in  a 
rage.  "  What,  you  thought  it  would  be  enough  for  me, 
to  say  that  you  had  lost  your  papers  !  You  are  playino' 
a  fine  game,  dragging  these  yoimg  girls  about  with  you, 

who,  in  spite  of  their  innocent  looks,  may  be  " 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Dagobert,  interrupting  the  burgo- 
master, with  a  gesture  and  look  so  threatening  that  the 
justice  was  afraid  to  go  on. 

The  soldier  took  the  children  by  their  arms,  and, 
before  they  could  utter  a  word,  put  them  into  their 
chamber,  of  which  he  quietly  closed  the  door  and  put 
the  key  in  his  pocket.  He  then  turned  hastily  around 
upon  the  burgomaster,  who,  alarmed  at  the  threatening 
attitude  and  aspect  of  the  veteran,  recoiled  several  paces', 
and  put  his  hand  on  the  balustrade  of  the  staircase. 

"  Hear  me,  you !  "  said  the  soldier,  laying  hold  of  the 
judge's  arm.  "Just  now  this  fellow  (he  pointed  to 
Morok)  insulted  me  ;  I  bore  it,  because  myself  only  was 
concerned.  Again  I  have  listened  patiently  to  your 
stupid  remarks,  because  you  seemed  for  a  moment  to 
interest  yourself  in  these  unfortunate  children ;  but  since 
you  have  neither  heart,  pity,  nor  justice,  I  tell  you  to 
your  beard,  burgomaster  though  you  are,  I  will  come 
across  you  as  I  have  already  done  to  this  hound  (point- 
ing again  to  the  prophet)  if  you  dare  to  breathe  one 
syllable  against  these  two  poor  girls  which  you  would 

174 


THE  RESULT. 


not  say  of  your  own  daughter.  Do  you  understand  me, 
burgomaster  ?  " 

"  What,  —  you  dare  !  "  stammered  the  indignant  bur- 
gomaster, "  that  if  I  speak  of  these  two  wanderers  —  " 

"  Your  hat  off  when  you  speak  of  the  daughters  of  the 
Marshal  Duke  de  Ligny,"  cried  the  soldier,  snatching 
off  the  burgomaster's  bonnet  and  throwing  it  at  his  feet. 

At  this  Morok  bounded  with  joy. 

In  fact,  Dagobert,  exasperated  as  he  was,  renounced 
all  hope,  and,  unfortunately,  allowed  his  indignation  full 
vent. 

When  the  burgomaster  saw  his  bonnet  at  his  feet,  he 
looked  at  the  tamer  of  brutes  with  an  air  of  stupefaction, 
as  if  he  could  not  comprehend  the  enormity  of  the 
offence. 

Dagobert,  regretting  his  offence,  and  knowing  that 
there  was  no  hope  of  reconciliation  left,  took  a  hasty 
glance  around  him,  and,  retreating  a  few  paces,  gained 
the  first  steps  of  the  staircase. 

The  burgomaster  stood  beside  a  bench  in  a  corner  of 
the  landing-place ;  Morok,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  in 
order  to  give  a  more  serious  aspect  to  his  wound,  was 
near  the  magistrate,  who,  deceived  by  Dagobert's  move- 
ment, cried : 

«  Ah,  you  think  to  escape,  after  having  dared  to  lay 
hands  on  me ;  do  you,  you  miserable  old  fellow,  you  ?  " 

«  Mister  Burgomaster,  forgive  me.  I  could  not  control 
a  feeling  too  quick  for  me  ;  I  am  sorry  for  my  offence," 
said  Dagobert,  in  a  tone  of  repentance,  and  bowing  very 
humbly.  J 

«  I  have  no  pity  for  you,  fellow !  You  want  to  come 
over  me  again  with  your  gammon ;  but  I  see  through 
your  tricks.  You  are  not  what  you  seem  to  be,  and  there 
may  be  some  state  secret  at  the  bottom  of  all  this," 
added  the  magistrate,  with  a  very  diplomatic  air; 
"  every  means  is  resorted  to  by  persons  anxious  to  set 
all  Europe  by  the  ears." 

175 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"I  am  but  a  poor  devil,  M.  le  Bourgmestre.  You  who 
have  so  good  a  heart  should  have  pity." 

"  What,  when  you  have  snatched  off  my  bonnet  ?  " 

"But  you,"  added  the  soldier,  turning  to  Morok, 
"  you  are  the  cause  of  all  this ;  pity  me,  and  do  not  show 
malice.  You,  who  are  a  holy  man.,  say  at  least  a  word 
in  my  favour  to  the  burgomaster." 

"  I  have  said  to  him  what  I  ought  to  say  to  him," 
replied  the  prophet,  ironically. 

"  Ah,  now,  you  vagabond  !  You  are  very  sorry.  You 
thought  to  humbug  me  with  your  tales  of  woe,"  added  the 
burgomaster,  advancing  towards  Dagobert ;  "  but  Heaven 
be  praised,  I  am  no  longer  your  dupe.  You  will  see  that 
at  Leipsic  there  are  good  dungeons  for  French  emissaries 
and  wandering  misses ;  for  your  girls  are  no  better  than 
yourself.  Go!"  added  he,  swelling  with  impatience. 
"  Go  down  before  me  ;  as  to  you,  Morok  —  " 

The  burgomaster  could  not  conclude. 

For  some  minutes  Dagobert  had  only  tried  to  gain 
time ;  he  saw,  from  the  corner  of  his  eye,  a  half  open 
door  looking  on  the  staircase,  and  opposite  the  room 
occupied  by  the  orphans.  He  found  the  moment  favour- 
able, and  darting,  with  the  quickness  of  lightning  on  the 
burgomaster,  and  seizing  him  by  the  throat,  threw  him 
so  "powerfully  against  the  half  open  door  that  the 
bewildered  magistrate  could  not  utter  a  word  or  cry, 
but  rolled  prostrate  to  the  farther  end  of  this  chamber, 
which  was  in  utter  darkness. 

Then  turning  on  Morok,  who,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling, 
seeing  the  staircase  free,  had  hastened  towards  it,  the 
soldier  seized  him  by  his  long  hair,  and,  dragging  him 
towards  him,  grasped  him  in  his  iron  arms,  put  his  hand 
over  his  mouth  to  prevent  his  cries,  and,  in  spite  of  his 
determined  resistance,  pushed  and  dragged  him  into  the 
chamber,  at  the  bottom  of  which  the  burgomaster  lay 
bruised  and  giddy. 

Having  double-locked  the  door,  and  put  the  key  in 

176 


THE  RESULT. 


his  pocket,  Dagobert  darted  down  the  staircase,  which 
led  to  the  courtyard.  The  inn  gate  was  closed,  and  it 
was  impossible  to  get  out  that  way. 

The  rain  fell  in  torrents;  and  he  saw,  through  the 
window-panes  of  a  lower  room,  lighted  by  a  fire,  the 
landlord  and  his  people  awaiting  the  decision  of 
the  burgomaster. 

To  bolt  the  door  of  this  back  stair,  and  cut  off  all 
communication  with  the  courtyard,  was  with  the  soldier 
but  the  work  of  a  second,  and  he  then  went  quickly  up 
the  stairs  to  rejoin  the  orphans. 

Morok,  recovering  himself,  called  loudly  for  help  ;  but, 
even  if  his  cries  could  have  been  heard  at  the  distance, 
the  wind  and  rain  would  have  stifled  them. 

Dagobert  had  perhaps  an  hour  before  him  ;  for  by  that 
time  suspicion  would  arise  as  to  the  long  time  elapsed, 
and  suspicion  once  excited,  they  would  break  open  the 
two  doors,  and  release  the  burgomaster  and  the  prophet. 

"  My  children,"  said  Dagobert,  entering  abruptly  in  the 
room  of  the  two  little  maidens,  who  had  been  aghast  at 
the  noise  they  had  heard  for  the  last  few  minutes  ;  "  now 
is  the  moment  to  prove  whether  or  not  a  soldier's  blood 
is  in  your  veins." 

"  Mon  Dieu,  Dagobert !  What  has  happened  ? ,?  ex- 
claimed Blanche. 

"  What  would  you  desire  us  to  do  ? "  asked  Rose. 

Without  replying,  the  soldier  ran  to  the  bed,  took  off 
the  sheets,  tied  them  together,  made  a  large  knot  at 
each  end,  which  he  placed  at  the  upper  part  of  the  shut- 
ter, first  opened  and  then  closed.  Fastened  inside  by  the 
knot,  which  could  not  slip  through  the  space  between 
the  shutter  and  the  jamb  of  the  window,  the  sheet  was 
securely  fastened,  whilst  the  other  end  dropping  outside 
reached  the  ground ;  the  other  half  of  the  window  being 
opened,  left  a  sufficient  space  for  the  escape  of  the  fugi- 
tives. 

The  veteran  then  took  his  bag,  the  children's  port- 

177 


.   THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

manteau  the  reindeer  skin  pelisse,  and  threw  them  all 
out  o±  the  window,  and  then  made  a  sign  to  Killjoy  to 
jump  out  and  take  care  of  the  things.  The  dog;  obeyed 
m  an  instant.  J 

Rose  and  Blanche  were  amazed,  and  looked  at  Dago- 
bert without  saying  a  syllable. 

"Now,  my  darlings,"  he  said,  "the  doors  of  the  inn 
are  closed.    Courage!"  and,  pointing  to  the  window, 
we  must  get  out  by  this  way,  or  we  shall  be  arrested 
and  cast  into  prison  — you  on  one  side  and  I  on  the 
otner,  and  our  journey  is  ended." 

"  Arrested  !    Cast  into  prison !  "  exclaimed  Rose. 

"  Separated  from  you  ? "  cried  Blanche. 

"  Yes,  my  dears !  They  have  killed  Jovial ;  we  must 
escape  on  foot,  and  try  to  reach  Leipsic.  When  you  are 
tired,  I  will  carry  you  in  turns ;  and  if  we  beg  every 
inch  of  our  way,  we  will  reach  our  journey's  end ;  but 
a  quarter  of  an  hour's  delay,  and  all  is  lost!  So  now, 
dears,  trust  in  me.  Let  us  see  that  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon  are  no  cowards,  and  we  have  still  hope  to 
lead  us  on."  r 

The  sisters  took  each  other's  hand  by  mutual  sym- 
pathy, as  if  to  unite  against  the  common  danger ;  their 
lovely  faces,  pale  with  emotion,  yet  expressed  a  simple 
nrmness,  which  arose  from  their  unbounded  confidence 
in  the  old  soldier. 

"Be  assured,  Dagobert;  do  not  fear  for  us,"  said 
Rose,  in  a  resolute  tone. 

"  We  will  do  what  we  ought  to  do,"  added  Blanche,  in 
a  voice  no  less  firm. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it,"  said  Dagobert ;  «  good  blood  will 
always  show  itself.  Forward!  You  are  not  heavier 
than  feathers,  the  sheets  are  strong,  and  it  is  hardly 
eight  feet  from  the  window  to  the  ground.  Killioy  is 
waiting  for  you." 

t  «  I  will  go  first  — I  am  eldest  to-day,"  said  Rose,  kiss- 
ing Blanche  affectionately;  and  she  hastened  to  the 

178 


THE  RESULT. 


window,  determined,  if  there  were  any  peril,  to  essay  it 
before  her  sister. 

Dagobert  easily  guessed  the  motive  of  her  conduct, 
and  said : 

"My  children,  I  understand  you;  but  do  not  fear, 
there  is  no  danger;  I  tied  the  sheets  securely.  Now, 
there,  my  little  Rosebud." 

Light  as  a  bird,  the  young  maiden  jumped  on  the 
window-sill;  then,  aided  by  Dagobert,  she  seized  the 
sheet  and  slid  gently  down  under  the  soldier's  advice, 
who,  leaning  out  of  the  window,  encouraged  her  with  his 
voice. 

_  "  Sister,  dear,  do  not  have  any  fear,"  said  the  young 
girl,  in  a  low  voice,  when  she  touched  the  ground ;  "  it 
is  very  easy  to  come  down  so,  and  Killjoy  is  licking 
my  hand." 

Blanche  did  not  delay  in  descending  as  speedily  and 
with  courage  equal  to  her  sister. 

"  Dear  little  things !  What  have  they  done  to  have 
such  misfortunes  ?  Mile  tonnerres  !  Is  there,  then,  an 
evil  spell  over  the  family?"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  in  his 
grief,  when  he  saw  the  pale  and  resigned  countenance  of 
the  young  child  disappear  in  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
rendered  still  more  painful  by  the  gusts  of  wind  and 
torrents  of  rain. 

«  Dagobert,  we  are  waiting  for  you ;  come  quickly," 
said  the  two  girls  under  the  window.  Thanks  to  his 
height,  the  soldier  leaped  rather  than  slid  from  the 
window  to  the  ground. 

Dagobert  and  the  two  girls  had  hardly  left  the  White 
Falcon  inn  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  a  violent  burst 
resounded  through  the  house. 

The  door  had  yielded  to  the  efforts  of  the  burgo- 
master and  Morok,  who  had  used  a  heavy  table  for  a 
battering-ram. 

Guided  by  the  light,  they  ran  into  the  room  of  the 
orphans.    It  was  deserted. 

179 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Morok  saw  the  sheets  hanging  outside,  and  cried  out : 

"  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  by  this  window  they  have  es- 
caped—  they  are  on  foot — the  night  is  dark  and 
stormy,  and  they  cannot  have  fled  far." 

"  Certainly  not.  We  shall  overtake  them.  Miserable 
vagabonds  !  Oh,  I'll  be  revenged  !  Quick,  Morok  ! 
Your  honour  is  as  much  concerned  as  mine." 

"My  honour?  More  than  that  is  concerned,  M.  le 
Bourgmestre,"  replied  the  prophet,  in  a  tone  of  bitter- 
ness. He  then  descended  the  staircase  rapidly,  and, 
opening  the  door  of  the  courtyard,  cried  with  a  resound- 
ing voice : 

"  Goliath,  unchain  the  dogs !  And  you,  landlord,  bring 
lanterns  and  torches !  Arm  your  people,  open  your 
doors !  Run  after  the  fugitives,  they  must  not  escape. 
We  must  take  them,  dead  or  alive ! " 


180 


Part  II. 

THE  STREET  OF  THE  MILIEU-DES-URSINS 


181 


CHAPTER  XT. 


THE  INFORMATIONS. 


In  reading  the  rules  of  the  order  of  Jesuits,  under  the 
title  of  Be  Formula  Scribendi  (Instit.  2,  11,  pp.  125- 
129),  the  development  of  the  eighth  part  of  the  Consti- 
tution, we  are  amazed  at  the  number  of  letters,  informa- 
tions, revelations,  registers,  and  writings  of  every  kind 
preserved  in  the  archives  of  the  society. 

This  body  is  a  police,  more  exact  and  better  informed 
than  was  ever  found  in  any  state.    The  government  of 
Venice  itself  found  that  it  was  surpassed  by  the  Jesuits, 
when,  in  1606,  it  laid  hands  on  their  papers  and  drove 
them  out  of  the  city,  reproaching  them  for  their  intense 
and  painful  curiosity.    This  police,  this  secret  inquisi- 
tion, carried  to  such  a  pitch  of  perfection,  evince  all  the 
power  of  a  government  so  fully  informed,  so  persevering 
in  its  plans,  so  powerful  in  its  unity,  and,  as  their  Con- 
stitutions express  it,  the  union  of  its  members.    It  may 
be  easily  understood  what  immense  power  the  govern- 
ment of  a  society  thus  constructed  must  acquire,  and 
how  the  general  of  the  Jesuits  was  justified  in  saying  to 
the  Duke  de  Brissac,  «  From  this  room,  sir,  I  govern  not 
only  Pans  but  China ;  not  only  China,  but  the  whole 
world,  without  any  one  understanding  the  manner  in 
which  I  do  it."    (The  Constitutions  of  the  Jesuits,  with 
the  Declarations :  Latin  text,  from  the  Prague  edition, 
pp.  470-478.    Paulin,  Paris,  1843.) 

183 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Morok,  the  beast-tamer,  seeing  Dagobert  deprived  of 
his  horse,  robbed  of  his  papers  and  his  money,  and 
believing  him  also  deprived  of  any  and  every  means  of 
continuing  his  journey,  had,  before  the  arrival  of  the 
burgomaster,  despatched  Karl  to  Leipsic  with  a  letter, 
which  he  was  instantly  to  put  in  the  post. 

The  address  of  the  letter  was  as  follows : 

"  To  Monsieur  Rodin, 

"  Rue  du  Milieu-des-Ursins, 

"  A  Paris." 

About  the  middle  of  this  solitary  and  little-known 
street,  which  is  just  above  the  Quai  Napoleon,  to  which 
it  leads,  and  not  far  from  the  Rue  St.  Landry,  there  was 
a  house  of  quiet  appearance,  built  at  the  extremity  of  a 
dull  and  narrow  courtyard,  isolated  from  the  street  by  a 
small  fac,ade,  in  which  was  an  arched  door,  and  two 
windows,  protected  by  strong  bars  of  iron. 

Nothing  could  be  more  unpretending  than  the  interior 
of  this  silent  abode,  judging  from  the  furniture  of  a  large 
room  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  principal  part  of  the 
building.  Old  gray  panels  covered  the  walls,  the  floor 
was  of  square  blocks,  painted  red,  and  carefully  polished, 
and  white  calico  curtains  hung  in  front  of  the  window- 
panes. 

A  globe,  four  feet  in  diameter,  placed  on  a  pedestal  of 
solid  oak,  was  at  the  farther  end  of  the  apartment, 
facing  the  fireplace. 

On  this  sphere,  which  was  on  a  large  scale,  there 
were  a  vast  quantity  of  small  red  crosses,  scattered  over 
all  parts  of  the  world,  from  north  to  south,  from  east 
to  west ;  from  the  most  barbarous  countries,  the  most 
remote  islands,  to  the  most  civilised  countries,  —  even  to 
France.  There  was  no  nation  which  did  not  bear,  in 
many  places,  more  or  less  of  these  small  red  crosses, 
which  evidently  served  as  signs  of  indication  or  as  points 
of  reference. 

184 


THE  INFORMATIONS. 


Before  a  table  of  ebony  covered  with  papers,  and  close 
against  the  wall,  by  the  chimney-side,  was  an  empty 
chair ;  at  a  distance,  between  two  windows,  was  a  large 
walnut-tree  bureau,  with  shelves  filled  with  large  mem- 
orandum cases. 

At  the  end  of  the  month  of  October,  1831,  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  there  was  a  man  seated  at  this 
bureau,  who  was  busily  writing. 

It  w^as  M.  Rodin,  the  correspondent  of  Morok,  the 
beast-tamer. 

Fifty  years  of  age,  he  wore  an  old,  threadbare,  olive- 
coloured,  long-tailed  coat,  with  a  greasy  collar  ;  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  was  his  cravat,  with  waistcoat  and  trousers 
of  black  cloth,  worn  white  at  the  seams  and  knees ; 
whilst  his  feet,  plunged  in  shoes  of  oiled  leather,  rested 
on  a  small  green -baize  stool,  which  was  on  the  red  and 
shining  floor.  His  gray  hairs  fell  limp  and  flat  on  his 
temples,  and  crowned  his  bald  forehead ;  his  eyebrows 
were  scarcely  marked ;  his  upper  eyelid  shrivelled,  but 
falling  low,  like  the  membrane  of  a  reptile's  eye,  half 
concealed  his  small  and  sharp  black  eye ;  his  lips,  thin 
and  absolutely  colourless,  were  lost  in  the  wan  hue  of 
his  lank  visage,  his  peaked  nose,  and  peaked  chin.  .This 
livid  and  (it  might  almost  be  said)  lipless  mask  seemed 
the  more  strange  from  its  death-like  inanimation,  and 
but  for  the  rapid  motion  of  M.  Rodin's  fingers,  as  he 
stooped  over  his  bureau,  and  his  pen  scratched  along, 
he  might  have  been  taken  for  a  corpse. 

By  the  aid  of  a  cipher  (a  secret  alphabet)  placed 
before  him,  he  was  transcribing,  in  a  manner  unintelli- 
gible to  all  but  the  initiated,  certain  passages  from  a 
long  scroll  of  writing. 

In  the  midst  of  this  perfect  silence,  in  a  dull,  dark 
day,  which  made  even  more  gloomy  this  large  and  naked 
room,  there  was  something  repulsive  in  the  sight  of  this 
frozen  figure  writing  mysterious  characters. 

The  clock  struck  eight. 

185 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


The  knocker  of  the  outer  gate  sounded  heavily,  then 
a  bell  tinkled  twice.  Several  doors  opened  and  shut, 
and  another  individual  entered  the  room. 

When  he  saw  him,  M.  Rodin  rose,  put  his  pen  between 
his  teeth,  and,,  having  saluted  him  with  an  air  of  the 
deepest  humility,  resumed  his  labour  without  a  word. 

These  two  personages  presented  a  striking  contrast. 

The  newcomer,  older  than  he  seemed,  appeared  thirty- 
six  or  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  of  tall  and  elegant  pro- 
portions ;  it  was  difficult  to  sustain  the  brilliant  glance 
of  his  large  and  sparkling  gray  eyes ;  his  nose,  large  at 
the  base,  terminated  with  an  expansive  curve  ;  his  chin 
was  well  defined,  and,  being  closely  shaven,  the  blue  tints 
of  his  beard  contrasted  broadly  with  the  vivid  scarlet  of 
his  lips  and  the  whiteness  of  his  teeth,  which  were  ex- 
quisite in  form  and  colour. 

When  he  took  off  his  hat  and  put  on  a  black  velvet 
cap,  which  was  lying  on  the  table,  he  exposed  his  bright 
and  full  chestnut  locks,  which  time  had  hitherto  left 
without  one  gray  hair.  He  was  attired  in  a  long  mili- 
tary frock-coat,  buttoned  closely  up  to  his  chin. 

The  penetrating  look  of  this  man,  his  largely  devel- 
oped forehead,  revealed  a  powerful  mind,  whilst  the  ex- 
pansion of  his  chest  and  shoulders  betokened  a  vigorous 
physical  construction.  His  distinguished  appearance,  the 
care  evidently  bestowed  upon  his  gloves  and  boots,  the 
light  perfume  which  came  from  his  hair  and  linen,  and 
the  easy  grace  of  his  slightest  gesture,  betrayed  what  is 
called  "  a  man  of  the  world,"  and  implied  that  he  had 
had,  and  might  still  have,  if  he  pleased,  success  in  all  he 
aimed  at,  from  the  most  frivolous  toying  to  the  most 
serious  pursuit. 

From  this  strength  of  understanding,  power  of  limb, 
and  elegance  of  manners  —  a  union  so  rare  to  meet 
withal  —  there  resulted  a  combination  the  more  remark- 
able, inasmuch  as  the  appearance  of  arbitrary  sway  which 
exhibited  itself  in  the  upper  part  of  his  energetic  features 

186 


THE  INFORMATIONS. 


was,  m  a  manner,  tempered  by  the  affability  of  his  smile 
habitual  but  not  uniform;  for,  as  occasion  claimed  it' 
this  smile,  by  turns  affectionate  or  shrewd,  cordial  or 
gay,  discreet  or  open,  increased  the  insinuating  charm 
ot  a  man  who,  once  seen,  could  never  be  forgotten 

However,  in  spite  of  the  conjunction  of  so  many  ad- 
vantages, and  although  you  were  almost  always  left 
under  the  influence  of  his  irresistible  demeanour,  your 
feelings  would  be  mingled  with  a  vague  disquiet,  as  if 
the  grace  and  exquisite  urbanity  of  this  individual's  man- 
ners, the  enchantment  of  his  discourse,  his  delicate  flat- 
tery, and  the  soothing  softness  of  his  smile,  concealed 
an  undercurrent  of  insidious  treachery. 
m  You  would  ask  yourself,  even  whilst  subdued  by  an 
involuntary  sympathy,  if  he  were  leading  you  to  good  or 


M  Rodin,  the  stranger's  secretary,  continued  to  write. 
'Are  there  any  letters  from  Dunkirk,  Rodin  ?"  asked 
his  master. 

"  The  postman  has  not  yet  been." 

"  Without  being  positively  distressed  about  the  state 
ot  my  mother's  health,  for  I  was  informed  of  her  entire 
convalescence,"  replied  the  other,  "I  shall  not  feel  per- 
fectly easy  until  I  have  a  letter  from  my  excellent  friend 
the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier.  I  hope  this  morning  will 
bring  me  good  news." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  the  secretary,  in  a  tone  as  humble 
and  dependent  as  it  was  laconic  and  unmoved. 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  desirous,"  resumed  his  employer  : 

•  wn?£  ^e  happiest  moments  of  my  life  was  that 
in  which  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier  informed  me  that 
ner  malady,  which  was  as  sudden  as  it  was  dangerous 
had  most  propitiously  yielded  to  the  careful  attentions 
with  which  my  mother  was  nursed  by  her ;  but  for  this 
I  should  instantly  have  set  out  for  the  princess's  estate' 
notwithstanding  my  presence  here  is  so  very  requisite." 

187 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Then  approaching  the  bureau  of  his  secretary,  he 
added : 

"  Have  you  made  the  extracts  from  the  foreign  cor- 
respondence ? " 

"  Here  is  the  analysis." 

•  "  All  letters  come  addressed  to  the  particular  places 
designated,  and  brought  according  to  my  orders  ? " 

"Always." 

"  Read  me  the  analysis  of  this  correspondence  ;  and  if 
there  be  any  letters  to  which  I  ought  to  reply  in  my  own 
hand,  I  will  let  you  know." 

Rodin's  master  then  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
room,  with  his  hands  folded  behind  his  back,  dictating, 
from  time  to  time,  remarks  which  Rodin  carefully 
noted  down. 

The  secretary  took  a  thick  volume,  and  began  thus : 
"  Don  Ramon  Olivares,  accused  at  Cadiz  of  the  receipt 
of  the  letter,  No.  19,  will  conform  to  its  instructions  in 
every  particular,  and  will  deny  all  participation  in  the 
affair." 

*  "  Good  !    Enter  it  in  the  right  list." 

"  Count  Romanof ,  of  Riga,  is  in  a  most  embarrassing 
dilemma." 

"  Tell  Duplessis  to  send  him  fifty  louis  d'or.  I  was 
once  captain  in  the  count's  regiment,  and  he  has  since 
supplied  us  with  most  useful  information." 

"  They  have  received  at  Philadelphia  the  last  cargoes 
of  the  6  History  of  France  expurgated  for  the  use  of  the 
Faithful.'  They  require  another  supply,  as  that  is  ex- 
hausted." 

«  Make  a  note  to  write  to  Duplessis.    Go  on." 
"  M.  Spindler  sends  from  Namur  the  secret  report 
requested,  concerning  M.  Ardouin." 
"  That  must  be  analysed." 

"  M.  Ardouin  sends,  from  the  same  city,  the  secret 
report  requested,  concerning  M.  Spindler." 
"  That,  too,  must  be  analysed." 

188 


THE  INFORMATIONS. 


"  Doctor  Van-Ostadt,  of  the  same  city,  sends  a  con- 
fidential note  concerning  both  M.  Spindler  and  M. 
Ardouin." 

"  They  must  be  duly  compared.  Continue." 
"  The  Count  Malipierri,  of  Turin,  announces  that  the 
donation  of  the  300,000  francs  is  signed." 
"  Inform  Duplessis.    Well  —  " 

"  Don  Stanislas  has  quitted  the  Baden  waters  with  the 
Queen  Marie-Ernestine.  He  states  that  the  queen  will 
gratefully  receive  any  information  sent  to  her,  and  reply 
to  it  in  person.' ' 

"  Make  a  note  of  this.  I  will  write  myself  to  the 
queen." 

Whilst  Rodin  was  making  several  notes  in  the  margin 
of  the  book  he  held  in  his  hand,  his  master,  who  con- 
tinued to  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  paused  before 
the  large  sphere  marked  with  the  small  red  crosses,  and 
gazed  at  it  for  a  moment,  thoughtfully. 

Rodin  continued : 

"  From  the  state  of  mind  in  certain  parts  of  Italy, 
where  certain  agitators  have  turned  their  eyes  towards 
France,  Father  Orsini  writes  from  Milan  that  it  would 
be  very  important  to  diffuse,  in  large  numbers,  a  small 
book  in  which  our  countrymen,  the  French,  should  be 
described  as  impious  and  debauched,  robbers  and  cut- 
throats." 

"  It  is  an  excellent  idea,  and  we  could  thus  easily 
account  for  the  excesses  committed  by  our  troops  in 
Italy  during  the  wars  of  the  Republic.  Jacques  Dumou- 
lin  must  be  employed  to  write  this  book,  —  that  man 
overflows  with  bile,  gall,  and  venom !  His  pamphlet 
will  be  tremendous,  and  I  can  furnish  him  with  some 
notes.  But  mind,  Jacques  Dumoulin  must  not  be  paid 
until  the  manuscript  is  complete  and  delivered  into  our 
own  hands." 

"  Of  course.  If  he  had  any  money  down,  he  would 
be  blind  drunk  for  eight  days  together  in  some  disrepu- 

189 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


table  house  or  other.  We  were  obliged  to  pay  him  twice 
for  his  virulent  letter  against  the  pantheistical  tendencies 
of  the  philosophical  doctrines  of  Professor  Martin." 

"  Make  your  memorandum,  and  go  on." 

."  The  merchant  announces  that  the  clerk  is  on  the 
point  of  sending  the  banker  to  his  accounts  before 
the  time,  when  —  " 

Having  accented  the  words  we  print  in  italics  in  a 
peculiar  way,  Rodin  added : 

"  You  understand  ?  " 

"Perfectly,"  said  the  other,  with  a  start;  "  these  were 
the  expressions  agreed  upon.    Well,  what  then  ? 99 

"But  the  clerk,"  added  the  secretary,  "is  restrained 
by  a  last  scruple." 

After  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  his  features 
were  painfully  contracted,  Rodin's  master  replied : 

"  Give  instructions  to  work  on  the  clerk's  imagination 
by  silence  and  solitude,  and  then  place  in  his  hands  the 
list  of  instances  in  which  regicide  is  authorised  and 
absolved.  Continue." 

"  The  woman  Sydney  writes  from  Dresden  that  she 
awaits  instructions.  Violent  scenes  of  jealousy  have 
occurred  between  the  father  and  son  about  her ;  but 
in  their  mutual  reproaches  and  hatred,  in  the  confi- 
dences which  each  has  made  to  her  of  his  rival,  the 
woman  Sydney  has  not  gleaned  anything  on  the  sub- 
ject we  desire  to  fathom ;  she  has  not  as  yet  shown 
preference  for  either,  but  if  she  delays,  she  fears  they 
may  suspect,  which  is  she  to  prefer  —  the  father  or  the 
son  ?  " 

"  The  son !  The  workings  of  jealousy  would  be  more 
violent  and  deadly  in  the  old  man  than  in  the  young ; 
and,  to  revenge  himself  for  the  preference  bestowed  on 
his  son,  he  might  very  probably  reveal  what  both  have 
so  great  an  interest  in  concealing.    What  next  ?  " 

"  In  the  last  three  years,  two  female  servants  belong- 
ing to  Ambrosius,  who  was  placed  as  pastor  in  that 

190 


THE  INFORMATIONS. 


small  parish  among  the  mountains  of  the  Yalois,  have 
disappeared  without  the  least  trace  having  been  obtained 
ot  their  late ;  a  third  has  recently  been  missing.  The 
Protestant  inhabitants  of  the  country  are  excited ;  they 
speak  openly  of  murder  having  been  committed,  and  call 
it  a  horrible  affair  requiring  immediate  investigation." 

"  Until  the  most  positive  evidence  of  his  guilt  is 
obtained,  the  most  unquestionable  proof  of  a  murder 
having  been  committed,  let  Ambrosius  be  strongly  sup- 
ported and  defended  against  the  infamous  falsehoods  of 
a  party  that  would  go  any  lengths  to  support  their 
malignant  scandals.  Continue." 

«  Thompson,  of  Liverpool,  has  at  length  succeeded  in 
securing  a  confidential  employment  for  Justin,  in  the 
family  of  Lord  Stewart,  a  rich  Irish  Catholic,  whose 
mental  weakness  daily  increases.  Justin  is  engaged  as 
private  secretary."  &  6 

" Fifty  louis  for  Thompson  upon  the  above  informa- 
tion bemg  duly  and  satisfactorily  verified.  Make  a  note 
tor  Duplessis.    Go  on." 

«  Frank  Dichestein,  of  Vienna,"  resumed  Rodin,  «  in- 
forms us  that  his  father  has  just  died  of  cholera  in  a 
little  village  a  few  leagues  from  hence,  for  the  epidemic 
is  advancing  with  slow  but  sure  strides,  proceeding  from 
the  north  of  Russia  through  Poland." 

«  True,"  answered  Rodin's  superior,  interrupting  him; 

France!"8  ™mTg*       arreBted  ere  lt  reac* 

"Frank  Dichestein  proceeds  to  say  that  his  two 

brothers  have  resolved  to  contest  the  legacy  left  by  his 

father,  but  that  he  is  well  disposed  to  allow  it " 

"  Consult  those  charged  with  the  bequest.  What  have 

you  next  r 

"The  Cardinal  Prince  d'Amalfi  will  conform  to  the 
three  first  points  of  the  memorial;  but  he  will  only 
accede  to  the  fourth  upon  certain  reservations  " 

"None  will  be  permitted;  a  full  and  unqualified 

191 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


acceptation,  or  war.  War  !  —  mark  me  well,  and  take 
a  note  of  what  I  say  —  bloody  and  unsparing,  either  of 
himself  or  his  creatures  !    The  next." 

"Father  Paoli  announces  that  the  patriot  Boccari, 
head  of  a  secret  and  formidable  society,  driven  to 
despair  of  being  (in  consequence  of  the  adroit  insinua- 
tions infused  by  Paoli  in  the  minds  of  his  associates) 
accused  by  his  friends  and  companions  of  treacherous 
designs  against  their  common  interests,  has  perished  by 
his  own  hand." 

"Can  it  be  possible?"  exclaimed  Rodin's  employer. 
"  Boccari !  —  the  patriot  Boccari !  —  that  redoubtable 
and  dangerous  enemy ! " 

"  Himself,"  repeated  the  still  immovable  secretary. 
"  Bid  Duplessis  send  an  order  for  twenty-five  louis  to 
Father  Paoli.    Make  a  note.    Now  proceed." 

"  Hausman  acquaints  us  that  the  French  dancer, 
Albertine  Ducornet,  is  established  as  the  acknowledged 
mistress  of  the  reigning  prince,  over  whom  she  exercises 
the  most  perfect  influence  ;  through  her  intervention  the 
desired  aim  might  be  obtained ;  but  this  individual  is  in 
her  turn  entirely  guided  by  her  lover,  an  individual  now 
under  sentence  for  forgery,  but  without  whose  knowledge 
and  concurrence  she  does  nothing." 

"  Then  desire  Hausman  to  confer  with  this  man,  and, 
if  he  find  him  reasonable  in  his  demands,  to  accede  to 
them ;  and  also  to  make  inquiries  as  to  whether  this 
woman,  Albertine,  has  not  relations  in  Paris." 

«  The  Duke  d'Orbano  acquaints  us  that  the  king  his 
master  will  authorise  the  new  establishment  proposed, 
but  upon  the  conditions  previously  stated." 

"  No  conditions  will  be  listened  to ;  either  an  unquali- 
fied compliance  or  a  positive  refusal.  By  such  decided 
means  alone  we  shall  be  able  to  know  our  friends  from 
our  foes;  the  more  unfavourable  the  circumstances  by 
which  we  are  surrounded,  the  greater  need  of  showing 
firmness  and  self-reliance." 

192 


THE  INFORMATIONS. 


"By  the  same  despatch  we  learn  that  the  entire 
diplomatic  body  persist  in  remonstrating  in  favour  of 
the  parent  of  the  young  Protestant  girl,  who  refuses 
to  quit  the  convent  in  which  she  has  found  safety  and 
protection  unless  to  marry  a  person  her  father  is  whollv 
opposed  to."  J 

"Ah,  the  diplomatic  body  continue  to  support  the 
lather  s  demand  for  the  restoration  of  his  disobedient 
daughter,  do  they?" 

"  They  do." 

"Then  continue  to  reply  to  all  their  petitions  and 
memorials  by  saying  that  the  ecclesiastical  power  cannot 

authority "    *°  ^  diSpUt6S  With  temPoral 

twite         inStant  at  the  entrance  door  rang 

"Go  see  who  that  is,"  said  Rodin's  master. 

The  former  rose  and  quitted  the  room  while  his 
employer  continued  pensively  to  pace  the  room,  until 
his  attention  being  attracted  by  the  enormous  globe  he 
suddenly  stopped,  and  for  several  minutes  continued  to 
gaze  m  silence  on  the  innumerable  little  red  crosses, 
which  like  the  meshes  of  an  immense  net,  appeared  to 
cover  the  whole  surface  of  the  earth. 

Doubtless  impressed  with  the  consciousness  of  his 
wide-extended  power,  from  the  influence  of  which  no 
quarter  of  the  universe  seemed  free,  the  features  of  the 
man  we  are  describing  were  suddenly  lighted  up  with 
an  expression  of  haughty  complacency  and  selfSratu- 
lation ;  his  large  gray  eye  glittered,  his  nostril  expanded, 
and  his  strongly  marked  features  assumed  an  indescrib- 
able look  of  energy,  determination,  and  pride 

With  lofty  mien  and  half  disdainful  smile  he  bent 
over  the  sphere  and  grasped  the  pole  in  his  strong  hand, 
looking  on  it  with  the  proud  air  of  a  conqueror  who  felt 

11  ^  thG  UDiverSal  dominion  he  c°veted; 

and  well  did  that  eager,  absolute,  and  audacious  grasp 

.  193 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


accord  with  the  fierce,  imperious  look  of  the  eye,  fixed 
on  it  with  so  intense  a  gaze,  as  though  already  wielding 
the  universal  sceptre  his  desires  aimed  at  obtaining. 

Yet  no  smile  illumined  his  countenance  ;  deep  frowns 
contracted  his  large  forehead  and  imparted  a  menacing 
air  to  his  whole  features.  An  artist  would  have  chosen 
him,  as  he  then  stood,  as  a  model  of  the  demon  of  pride 
and  audacity,  the  evil  genius  of  insatiable  power.  Nor 
could  he  have  embodied  his  ideas  under  a  more  fearful 
personification. 

Ere  Rodin  returned  to  the  room  the  features  of  his 
master  had  resumed  their  natural  expression. 

"  'Twas  the  postman,"  said  Rodin,  exhibiting  the 
letters  he  carried  in  his  hand.  "There  is  nothing, 
however,  from  Dunkirk." 

"  Nothing !  "  exclaimed  his  master ;  and  the  pained 
look  of  his  countenance  contrasted  deeply  and  singularly 
with  the  haughty  and  unbending  expression  it  so  lately 
wore. 

"  No  news  of  my  mother !  "  resumed  he ;  "  yet  six 
and  thirty  hours  more  of  uncertainty  and  suspense  !  " 

"Yet  had  Madame  la  Princesse  had  bad  news  to 
communicate,  she  would  surely  have  written.  Let  us 
hope,  therefore,  that  things  continue  to  go  on  favour- 
ably." 

"  Probably,  Rodin,  it  may  be  as  you  say ;  but,  I  know 
not  why,  I  cannot  tranquillise  myself,  and  if  to-morrow 
does  not  bring  me  the  most  satisfactory  intelligence  I 
shall  certainly  set  off  at  once  to  the  princess.  Oh,  why 
would  my  mother  so  positively  choose  to  pass  the 
autumn  in  that  place !  I  fear  much  the  situation  of 
Dunkirk  is  decidedly  unfavourable  to  her." 

After  a  brief  silence,  during  which  he  still  continued 
to  pace  the  room,  he  added : 

"'Let  me  see  those  letters." 

Rodin,  having  examined  their  various  postmarks, 
replied : 

194  . 


THE  INFORMATIONS. 

"Among  the  four  I  hold,  are  three  relative  to  the 
great  and  important  affair  of  the  medals." 

"  Then  Heaven  be  praised  for  so  much  that  is  good  to 
hear  !  "  exclaimed  Rodin's  master.  "  Let  us  hope  the 
accounts  are  favourable."  And  this  was  said  in  a  tone 
and  manner  that  clearly  evinced  the  extreme  uneasiness 
and  anxiety  entertained  respecting  the  matter. 

"  One  is  from  Charlestown,  and  is,  no  doubt,  from  the 
missionary  Gabriel,"  rejoined  Rodin.  "  The  other,  from 
Batavia,  comes  probably  from  the  Indian  Djalma.  This 
is  from  Leipsic,  and  is,  I  expect,  in  confirmation  of  that 
of  yesterday,  in  which  Morok,  the  tamer  of  beasts,  an- 
nounced that,  in  pursuance  of  orders  received,  and  with- 
out in  any  way  involving  himself,  he  had  rendered  it 
impossible  for  the  daughters  of  General  Simon  to  con- 
tinue their  journey." 

At  the  name  of  General  Simon  a  dark  cloud  passed 
over  the  features  of  Rodin's  master. 


195 


CHAPTER  XYI. 


ORDERS. 

"The  provincial  agencies  correspond  with  that  in 
Paris,  and  are  also  in  direct  communication  with  the 
general,  who  resides  at  Rome.  The  correspondence  of 
the  Jesuits,  so  active,  various,  and  so  wonderfully  organ- 
ised, is  arranged  and  devised  to  supply  the  chiefs  with 
every  information  they  may  require. 

"  Every  day  the  general  receives  a  mass  of  reports 
which  check  each  other.  In  the  central  ddpOt  at  Rome 
there  are  immense  registers,  in  which  are  kept  the  names 
of  all  the  Jesuits,  their  allies,  and  all  persons  of  conse- 
quence, friends  or  enemies,  with  whom  they  have  con- 
nection or  business.  In  these  registers  are  detailed, 
without  alteration,  without  hatred  or  passion,  the  facts 
relative  to  the  life  of  each  individual.  It  is  the  most 
gigantic  biographical  collection  ever  formed. 

"  The  conduct  of  a  woman  of  light  character,  and  the 
concealed  faults  of  a  statesman,  are  recapitulated  in  this 
book  with  calm  impartiality.  Abridged  for  a  useful 
purpose,  these  biographies  are  necessarily  precise. 

"  When  it  is  requisite  to  act  upon  or  against  a  certain 
individual,  the  book  is  opened,  and  instantly  his  life, 
character,  qualities,  defects,  projects,  family,  friends,  and 
most  secret  connections  are  known. 

"  Imagine,  now,  what  immense  control,  what  a  sphere 
of  action,  a  book  like  this,  which  includes  the  entire 
world,  must  give  to  a  society !  I  do  not  speak  lightly 
of  these  registers,  —  I  have  the  fact  from  one  who  has 

196 


ORDERS. 


seen  the  collection,  and  who  knows  the  Jesuits  thoroughly. 
This  must  afford  matter  for  reflection  for  families  who 
admit  with  facility  into  their  domestic  circle  members  of 
a  community  by  whom  the  study  of  biography  is  so 
skilfully  carried  out."  — Libri,  member  of  the  Institute  : 
Letters  on  the  Clergy. 

After  having  overcome  the  involuntary  emotion  which 
the  name  or  the  recollection  of  General  Simon  had 
caused  him,  Rodin's  master  said: 

"  Do  not  open  these  letters  from  Leipsic,  Charlestown, 
and  Batavia ;  the  information  they  contain  will  doubtless 
classify  itself  forthwith.  That  will  spare  us  a  double 
employment  of  time." 

The  secretary  looked  at  his  master  with  an  inquiring 
air. 

The  other  continued : 

"Have  you  finished  the  note  in  reference  to  the 
medals  ? " 

"  Here  it  is  ;  I  have  just  finished  it  from  the  ciphers." 

"  Read  it  to  me,  and  according  to  the  order  of  dates, 
and  adding  the  fresh  informations  which  these  three 
letters  ought  to  contain." 

"By  which,"  said  Rodin,  "these  informations  will 
duly  fall  into  their  right  places." 

"  I  wish  to  see,"  added  the  other,  "  if  this  note  be 
clear  and  sufficiently  full;  for  you  have  not  forgotten 
that  the  person  to  whom  it  is  addressed  does  not  know 
the  full  purpose  of  it  ?  " 

"That  I  fully  understand,  and  have  drawn  it  up 
accordingly." 

"  Read." 

M.  Rodin  read  what  follows,  very  carefully  and 
slowly : 

"  A  hundred  and  fifty  years  since  a  French  Protestant 
family  voluntarily  expatriated  itself  in  anticipation  of  the 
coming  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  and  with  the 

197 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


intention  of  escaping  the  severe  and  just  arrests  already 
issued  against  the  Reformers,  those  savage  enemies  of 
our  holy  religion. 

"  Amongst  the  members  of  this  family,  some  took 
refuge  first  in  Holland,  then  in  the  Dutch  colonies; 
others  in  Poland,  others  in  Germany,  others  in  England, 
and  some  in  America. 

"  It  is  believed  that  at  this  time  there  are  only  seven 
surviving  descendants  of  this  family,  which  has  experi- 
enced remarkable  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  since  its  repre- 
sentatives are  now  placed  on  every  step  of  the  ladder  of 
society,  from  the  monarch  to  the  mechanic. 

"  These  direct  or  indirect  descendants  are : 

"BY  THE  MOTHER'S  SIDE. 

"  The  demoiselles  Rose  and  Blanche  Simon,  minors. 

"  (General  Simon  married,  at  Warsaw,  a  female 
descendant  of  the  said  family.) 

"  The  sieur  Francois  Hardy,  a  manufacturer  at  Plessis, 
near  Paris. 

"  The  Prince  Djalma,  son  of  Kadja-Sing,  king  of 
Mondi. 

"  (Kadja-Sing  married,  in  1802,  a  female  descendant 
of  the  said  family,  then  settled  at  Batavia,  isle  of  Java, 
a  Dutch  settlement.) 

"  BY  THE  FATHER'S  SIDE. 

"  The  sieur  Jacques  Rennepont,  called  Couche-tout- 
Nud,  a  mechanic. 

"  The  demoiselle  Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  daughter  of 
the  Count  de  Rennepont,  duke  de  Cardoville. 

"  The  sieur  Gabriel  Rennepont,  a  missionary  in  foreign 
parts. 

"  Each  of  the  members  of  this  family  possesses,  or 
ought  to  possess,  a  bronze  medal,  on  which  is  engraved 
the  following  inscription : 

198 


ORDERS. 


Victime 
de 

L.  C.  D.  J. 


Rue  St.  Francois,  ISTo.  3, 
In  a  century  and  a  half 


A  Paris, 


Priez  pour  moi. 


you  will  be, 
the  13th  February,  1832. 


Paris, 
13th  February,  1682. 


Pray  for  me. 


"These  words  and  this  date  indicate  that  there  is 
some  powerful  reason  why  all  of  them  should  be  in 
Paris  on  the  thirteenth  of  February,  1832,  and  that 
not  by  proxies  or  by  attorney,  but  in  person,  whether 
of  age  or  under  age,  married  or  single. 

"  But  other  persons  have  an  immense  interest  in  pre- 
venting any  one  of  the  descendants  of  this  family  from 
being  in  Paris  on  the  thirteenth  of  February,  except 
Gabriel  Rennepont,  the  foreign  missionary. 

"  At  all  hazards,  therefore,  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
that  Gabriel  alone  be  present  at  this  interview,  appointed 
for  the  representatives  of  this  family  a  century  and  a 
half  ago. 

"  To  prevent  the  six  other  persons  from  being  in,  or 
coming  to,  Paris  on  that  particular  day,  or  to  prevent 
their  attendance  at  the  appointment  named,  much 
has  already  been  done ;  but  a  great  deal  more  must  be 
yet  accomplished  to  ensure  the  entire  success  of  this 
object,  which  is  considered  as  the  most  important  and 
vital  affair  of  this  time,  because  of  its  probable  results.'' 

"  That  is  very  true,"  said  Rodin's  employer,  interrupt- 
ing him,  and  shaking  his  head  gravely ;  "  add,  moreover, 
that  the  consequences  of  success  are  incalculable,  whilst 
the  fatal  results  of  failure  cannot  be  anticipated.  But, 
in  a  word,  it  involves  the  very  fact  of  existence  or  virtual 
death  for  many  years  to  come.  Thus,  to  succeed,  all 
means  possible  must  be  resorted  to,  and  nothing  allowed 
to  impede  the  progress  to  perfect  completion;  whilst, 
at  the  same  time,  appearances  must  be  most  carefully 
preserved." 


199 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  I  have  written  that,"  said  Rodin,  after  he  had  added 
the  words  dictated  to  him. 
"  Continue."  . 
Rodin  continued  thus : 

.  "  To  facilitate  or  ensure  the  success  of  the  affair  in 
question,  it  is  necessary  to  supply  some  particular  and 
secret  details,  as  to  those  seven  representatives  of  this 
family.  These  details  can  be  verified,  and,  if  requisite, 
given  in  full  minutia3 ;  for  cross  informations  having 
been  received,  we  have  the  fullest  particulars.  We 
proceed  in  order  of  the  persons,  and  only  mention  facts 
which  have  occurred  up  to  this  day." 

NOTE  NO.  1. 

"  The  girls  Rose  and  Blanche  Simon  are  twins ;  age, 
about  fifteen ;  lovely  faces,  so  like  each  other  that  they 
are  mistaken  one  for  the  other;  disposition,  gentle  and 
timid,  but  susceptible  of  strong  impulses ;  brought  up  in 
Siberia  by  their  mother,  a  woman  of  strong  mind,  and  a 
Deist  in  principle,  they  are  completely  ignorant  of  every- 
thing connected  with  our  holy  religion. 

"  General  Simon,  separated  from  his  wife  before  they 
were  born,  does  not  know  to  this  hour  that  he  has  two 
daughters. 

"  lt  was  believed  that  they  were  prevented  from  reach- 
ing Paris  on  the  thirteenth  of  February,  by  having  sent  the 
mother  to  a  place  of  exile  more  remote  than  that  to  which 
she  was  first  sentenced;  but  the  mother  being  dead,  the 
governor-general  of  Siberia,  who  is  entirely  devoted  to 
us,  believing  (by  a  deplorable  error)  that  the  affair  was 
only  a  personal  one,  affecting  solely  the  wife  of  General 
Simon,  unfortunately  allowed  these  young  girls  to  return 
to  France  under  the  protection  of  an  old  soldier. 

"This  man,  quick-witted,  faithful,  and  resolute,  is 
noted  as  6  dangerous.' 

"The  demoiselles  Simon  are  inoffensive.    There  is 

200 


ORDERS. 


every  good  reason  to  believe  that,  at  this  time,  they  are 
detained  in  or  near  Leipsic." 

Rodin's  master,  interrupting  him,  said  : 
^  "  Now  read  the  letter  received  by  this  post  from  Leip- 
sic, which  should  perfect  the  information.'' 

Rodin  read,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Capital  news !  The  two  young  girls  and  their  guide 
contrived  to  escape  during  the  night  from  the  inn  of  the 
White  Falcon,  but,  being  pursued,  they  were  overtaken  a 
league  from  Mockern,  sent  on  to  Leipsic,  and  then  locked 
up  in  gaol  as  vagabonds ;  besides  this,  the  soldier,  who 
was  their  conductor,  was  accused  and  convicted  of 
resistance,  assault,  and  contempt  of  a  magistrate." 

"  Well,  then,  it  is  pretty  sure,  thanks  to  the  tedious- 
ness  of  German  law  proceedings  (and  we  will  contrive  to 
•  protract  them),  that  the  young  girls  will  not  be  able  to  be 
here  on  the  thirteenth  of  February,"  said  the  employer 
to  Rodin.    "Add  this  fact  to  the  note  by  a  postscript." 

The  secretary  obeyed,  and  added  to  the  note  the  sub- 
stance of  Morok's  letter,  saying : 

" 1  have  done  that." 

"  Then  continue,"  said  his  master. 

Rodin  complied  thus : 

NOTE  no.  2. 

M.  Frangois  Hardy,  Manufacturer  at  Flessis,  near  Paris. 

«  Forty  years  old,  —  a  strong-minded,  rich,  intelligent, 
active,  honourable,  well-informed  man ;  greatly  beloved 
by  his  work-people,  owing  to  the  numerous  improvements 
he  has  established  in  their  favour ;  never  fulfilling  the 
duties  of  our  holy  religion  ;  marked  as  a  <  very  dangerous  ' 
man ;  but  the  hatred  and  envy  which  he  excites  in  other 
manufacturers,  particularly  to  M.  le  Baron  Tripeaud,  his 
competitor,  may  be  easily  fomented,  and  used  against 
him.  If  other  springs  of  action  against  or  upon  him  be 
required,  the  book  will  be  referred  to;  it  is  very  full 

201 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


with  respect  to  him,  as  this  individual  has  long  been 
marked,  and  carefully  watched. 

u  He  has  been  so  carefully  misled  with  regard  to  the 
medal  that,  up  to  this  time,  he  is  completely  ignorant  of 
its  importance,  and  the  interests  which  it  represents; 
moreover,  he  is  constantly  watched,  looked  after,  and 
led,  without  the  slightest  suspicion  on  his  part.  One  of 
his  most  intimate  friends  betrays  him,  and  his  most 
secret  thoughts  are  known." 

NOTE  NO.  3. 

The  Prince  Djalma. 

"  Eighteen  years  of  age,  of  energetic  and  noble  dis- 
position, proud,  independent,  and  wild ;  a  favourite  of 
General  Simon,  who  commands  the  troops  of  his  father, 
Kadja-Sing,  in  his  struggle  against  the  English  in  India. 
This  account  of  Djalma  is  from  memory  only,  as  his 
mother  died  very  young.  From  the  survivor  of  her 
parents,  who  remained  in  Batavia,  dying  subsequently, 
their  small  property  has  not  been  claimed  by  Djalma  or 
the  king,  his  father,  and  it  is  clearly  understood  that 
they  are  both  ignorant  of  the  deep  interests  which  apper- 
tain to  the  possession  of  the  medal  in  question,  which 
forms  part  of  the  inheritance  of  Dj alma's  mother." 

Rodin's  master  interrupted  him,  and  said : 

"  Now  read  the  letter  from  Batavia,  that  our  informa- 
tion as  to  Djalma  may  be  complete." 

Rodin  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  said : 

"  More  good  news !  M.  Joshua  Yan  Dael,  a  merchant 
of  Batavia  (educated  in  our  house  at  Pondicherry),  has 
learned  from  his  correspondent  at  Calcutta  that  the  old 
Indian  king  was  killed  in  his  late  battle  with  the  Eng- 
lish. His  son  Djalma.  dispossessed  of  his  throne,  was 
sent  temporarily  to  a  fortress  in  India  as  prisoner  of 
state." 

"  We  are  at  the  end  of  October,"  observed  the  other, 

202 


ORDERS. 


"and,  admitting  that  the  Prince  Djalma  was  set  at 
liberty,  and  could  now  quit  India,  he  could  scarcely 
reach  Paris  by  the  month  of  February." 

"M.  Joshua,"  replied  Rodin,  "regrets  not  being  able 
to  prove  his  zeal  in  this  case  ;  if,  contrary  to  all  prob- 
ability, the  Prince  Djalma  has  been  released,  or  contrives 
to  escape,  it  is  certain  that  he  would  come  instantly  to 
Batavia  to  reclaim  his  maternal  inheritance,  as  he  had 
nought  in  the  world  left  beside.  He  might,  in  this 
case,  rely  on  the  devotion  of  M.  Joshua  Van  Dael.  He 
requests,  in  return,  by  the  next  courier,  precise  infor- 
mation as  to  the  fortune  of  the  Baron  Tripeaud,  manu- 
facturer and  banker,  with  whom  he  is  connected  in 
commercial  affairs." 

"  Reply  in  an  evasive  manner,  as  M.  Joshua  has  not 
yet  testified  anything  but  zeal.  Complete  the  informa- 
tion of  Djalma  with  these  fresh  particulars." 

Rodin  wrote. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  seconds  his  employer  said,  with  a 
singular  expression  : 

"  M.  Joshua  does  not  mention  General  Simon,  although 
he  refers  to  the  death  of  Djalma's  father,  and  the  prince's 
imprisonment." 

"M.  Joshua  does  not  say  one  word,"  replied  the 
secretary,  as  he  continued  his  writing. 

Rodin's  master  kept  silence,  and  walked  up  and  down 
thoughtfully  in  the  room. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  minutes,  Rodin  said: 

"  I  have  written  that." 

"  Continue,  then." 

NOTE  NO.  4. 

The  Sieur  Jacques  Rennepont,  called  Couche-tout-Nud. 

"  A  workman  in  the  manufactory  of  the  Baron  Tri- 
peaud, the  competitor  of  M.  Francois  Hardy.  This 
artisan  is  a  drunkard,  indolent,  extravagant,  riotous,  — 

203 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


not  deficient  in  understanding,  but  idleness  and  debauch- 
ery have  utterly  ruined  him.  One  of  our  sub-agents,  a 
very  clever  fellow,  and  much  trusted,  has  got  up  an 
intrigue  with  a  girl  named  Ce'physe  Soliveau,  called  the 
Queen-Bacchanal.  She  is  the  mistress  of  this  artisan. 
Through  her  our  agent  has  begun  an  intimacy  with  him, 
and  we  may  look  on  him,  from  this  time,  as  almost 
withdrawn  from  any  interest  which  might  necessitate 
his  presence  at  Paris  on  the  thirteenth  of  February." 

note  no.  5. 

Gabriel  Rennepont,  Foreign  Missionary. 

"  Distant  relation  of  the  preceding,  but  knows  nothing 
of  the  relation  or  the  relationship :  a  forsaken  orphan, 
adopted  by  Franchise  Baudoin,  wife  of  a  soldier  surnamed 
Dagobert. 

"  If,  contrary  to  all  expectation,  this  soldier  should 
come  to  Paris,  we  should  have  a  strong  hold  on  him, 
through  his  wife,  who  is  a  worthy  creature,  ignorant, 
credulous,  of  exemplary  piety,  and  over  whom  we  have 
long  had  entire  control  and  influence.  It  was  by  her 
intervention  that  Gabriel  was  induced  to  take  orders,  in 
spite  of  his  own  repugnance  to  a  clerical  life. 

"  Gabriel  is  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and  of  a  disposi- 
tion as  sweet  as  his  countenance ;  he  has  rare  and  solid 
virtues.  Unfortunately  he  was  brought  up  with  his 
brother  by  adoption,  Agricola,  the  son  of  Dagobert. 
This  Agricola  is  a  poet  and  a  mechanic,  —  a  capital 
workman,  and  employed  at  M.  Francois  Hardy's  ;  imbued 
with  detestable  doctrines ;  idolises  his  mother  ;  honest, 
hard-working,  but  destitute  of  all  religious  feeling.  Noted 
as  6  very  dangerous,'  which  made  his  intimacy  with  Gabriel 
so  much  to  be  feared. 

"  Gabriel,  in  spite  of  his  perfect  qualities,  sometimes 
gives  cause  for  alarm ;  we  must,  therefore,  not  be 
completely  without  reserve  with  him,  —  a  hasty  step 

204 


ORDERS. 


might  render  him  a  most  dangerous  man.  He  must, 
therefore,  be  carefully  managed,  at  least  until  the  thir- 
teenth of  February,  because  on  him,  and  on  his  presence 
in  Paris  at  this  moment,  rest  not  only  immense  hopes, 
but  also  the  most  important  interests. 

"  Carrying  out  this  system  of  management  with  him, 
he  has  had  leave  to  join  a  mission  to  America,  for  he 
unites  to  an  extreme  gentleness  of  disposition  the  most 
perfect  intrepidity  and  a  most  adventurous  spirit,  which 
could  only  be  satisfied  by  allowing  him  to  share  in  the 
perilous  life  of  the  missionaries.  Fortunately,  the  most 
rigid  instructions  have  been  given  to  the  superiors  at 
Charlestown  that  they  will  not  expose  a  life  so  precious 
They  are  to  send  him  to  Paris  at  least  a  month  or  two 
before  the  thirteenth  of  February." 

Rodin's  employer  again  interrupted  him,  saying : 
"Read  the  letter  from  Charlestown,  and  see  what 
information  it  contains  that  will  enable  you  to  complete 
this  information." 

Having  read  as  he  was  desired,  Rodin  replied : 
"  Gabriel  is  expected  daily  from  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
where  he  insisted  on  going  alone  on  a  mission." 
"  What  imprudence  !  " 

"  Oh,  doubtless  he  ran  no  risk,  since  he  has  himself 
announced  his  own  return  to  Charlestown.  On  his 
arrival  which  cannot  be  later  than  some  time  in  this 
month,  he  will  be  immediately  sent  forward  to  France." 

"Add  that  to  the  note  about  him,"  said  Rodin's 
master. 

"  I  have  done  so,"  was  the  reply,  after  a  few  minutes. 
"  Now,  then,  go  on." 
Rodin  complied. 

NOTE  NO.  6. 

Mademoiselle  Adrienne  Rennepont  de  Cardoville. 

"  Distant  relation  (and  ignorant  of  the  relationship) 
ot  Jacques  Rennepont,  called  Couche-tout-Nnd,  and  of 

205 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Gabriel  Rennepont,  the  missionary  priest.  She  is  very 
nearly  twenty-one  years  of  age,  with  a  countenance 
singularly  prepossessing,  and  of  remarkable  beauty, 
though  with  hair  of  reddish  tinge ;  an  understanding 
remarkable  for  its  originality ;  an  immense  fortune ; 
possessed  of  strong  sense  and  quick  appreciation.  There 
is  much  apprehension  as  to  the  future  life  of  this  young 
person,  when  her  incredible  boldness  of  disposition  is 
considered.  Fortunately,  her  acting  guardian,  the  Baron 
Tripeaud  (baron  since  1829,  and  formerly  man  of  busi- 
ness to  the  late  Count  de  Rennepont,  Duke  of  Cardoville), 
is  entirely  in  the  interest,  and  almost  in  the  confidence, 
of  the  aunt  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville.  We  calculate, 
and  almost  with  certainty,  on  this  worthy  and  respectable 
relative,  and  on  M.  Tripeaud,  to  combat  and  subdue  the 
strange  designs  and  unheard-of  projects  of  this  young 
lady,  who  is  as  determined  as  she  is  independent,  is 
always  talking  of  openly,  and  which,  unfortunately, 
cannot  be  usefully  directed  towards  the  importance  of 
the  affair  in  hand,  for —  " 

Rodin  could  not  proceed.  He  was  interrupted  by  two 
blows  carefully  struck  on  the  door. 

The  secretary  arose  and  went  to  see  who  knocked, 
and,  remaining  outside  for  a  moment,  returned,  bearing 
two  letters  in  his  hand,  saying : 

"  The  princess  has  availed  herself  of  the  departure  of 
the  estafette  to  send —  " 

"  Give  me  the  princess's  letter  !  "  exclaimed  the  master 
of  Rodin,  not  allowing  him  to  conclude ;  "  give  me  the 
princess's  letter ! "  said  Rodin's  superior,  without  allow- 
ing him  time  to  finish  speaking.  "  At  length,  then," 
added  he,  "  I  have  news  of  my  mother  !  " 

But  scarcely  had  he  perused  a  few  lines  of  the  epistle 
than  he  turned  pale,  while  his  features  expressed  the  most 
lively  astonishment  mingled  with  the  deepest  distress. 

«  Oh,  God  ! "  cried  he  ;  "  my  mother  !  My  beloved 
mother  ! " 

206 


ORDERS. 


"Has  anything  happened  to  her  ?"  exclaimed  Rodin, 
starting  from  his  seat  in  alarm  at  the  sudden  exclama- 
tion of  his  patron. 

"Alas!"  returned  the  latter,  with  most  poignant 
agony,  "  all  hopes  of  her  recovery  are  at  an  end.  The 
late  favourable  symptoms  have  proved  deceitful,  and  she 
has  relapsed  into  an  almost  hopeless  state;  still  her 
physician  thinks  that  my  presence  might  yet  save 
her,  for  she  incessantly  calls  for  me,  and  prays  to 
behold  me  yet  once  again  that  she  may  die  in  peace. 
And  shall  I  not  fly  to  perform  so  sacred  a  duty  ?  To 
fail  were  to  be  a  parricide  indeed  !  Heaven  grant  I  may 
only  reach  her  in  time !  Travelling  night  and  day,  it 
will  be  two  days  ere  I  reach  the  princess's  estate." 

^  Great  God!"  said  Rodin,  clasping  his  hands,  and 
raising  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling,  "  what  a  blow !  " 

The  superior  rose,  and  hastily  pulling  the  bell,  it 
was  answered  by  an  old  domestic,  to  whom  he  said, 
hurriedly : 

"  Pack  hastily  such  things  as  are  indispensably  neces- 
sary for  a  journey  ;  have  the  travelling  carriage  prepared 
with  all  speed,  and  bid  the  porter  take  a  cabriolet  and 
proceed  as  quickly  as  may  be  to  order  post-horses 
instantly  ;  I  must  depart  within  an  hour." 

The  servant  bowed  and  retired. 

"  And  what  if  I  should  never  again  in  life  behold  this 
beloved  parent  ?  There  is  agony  in  the  very  thought. 
Oh,  my  mother  !  My  mother  !  "  reiterated  he,  sinking 
into  a  chair,  overwhelmed  with  anguish,  and  covering 
his  face  with  his  outspread  hands  ;  "  for  your  dear  sake, 
surely  Heaven  will  spare  me  this  bitter  trial." 

And  this  burst  of  grief  was  of  nature's  own  working ; 
no  art,  no  feigned  sorrow,  mingled  with  the  pure  and 
sacred  feeling.  This  man,  so  hard,  so  cold,  and  even  so 
guilty  in  some  transactions  of  his  life,  had  preserved  for 
his  mother  the  most  devoted  affection ;  and  chilled  as 
was  his  heart  to  every  other  finer  sympathy  of  our 

207 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


nature,  his  filial  fondness  for  his  almost  adored  parent 
had  remained  untouched,  undiminished,  through  all  the 
various  changes  and  schemes  of  his  chequered  career. 

After  some  moments  permitted  to  the  indulgence  of 
his  agonised  feelings,  Rodin  ventured  to  arouse  him,  by 
displaying  a  second  letter,  and  observing : 

"  This  has  just  arrived  from  M.  Duplessis ;  it  is  most 
important,  and  in  extreme  haste." 

"  See  what  it  contains,  and  reply  to  it ;  I  cannot 
attend  to  it  at  present  myself." 

"  But,"  said  Rodin,  presenting  the  epistle  to  his 
patron,  "  this  letter  is  marked  4  strictly  private  and 
confidential,'  and  bears  the  usual  mark  of  being  in- 
tended for  your  perusal  alone.  I  cannot,  therefore, 
open  unless  —  " 

As  the  eyes  of  the  superior  fell  on  the  mark,  his 
countenance  assumed  an  indescribable  expression  of  fear 
and  respect ;  with  a  trembling  hand  he  broke  the  seal, 
the  billet  merely  contained  these  words  : 

"  Leaving  all  other  matters,  set  out  without  an 
instant's  delay  ;  come,  —  you  are  imperatively  required. 
M.  Duplessis  will  take  your  place,  and  has  all  the 
necessary  instructions." 

The  paper  fell  from  his  trembling  fingers. 

"  Merciful  powers !  "  exclaimed  the  distracted  man  ; 
"  what  fresh  trial  awaits  me  ?  What,  obey  this  man- 
date, and  renounce  the  melancholy  delight  of  once 
again  beholding  a  dying  parent !  Oh,  horrible !  Not 
to  be  thought  of!  Not  go  to  her!  'Twould  be  mak- 
ing me  a  parricide,  indeed,  —  my  own  dear  mother's 
murderer !  " 

As  he  wildly  uttered  these  words,  his  perturbed  glance 
was  arrested  by  the  huge  globe,  dotted  over  with  small 
red  crosses ;  and  quickly  again  a  change  came  over  him. 
He  seemed  to  regret  his  recent  impetuosity  and  unre- 
strained grief,  and  by  degrees  his  countenance,  though 
still  sorrowful,  recovered  its  usual  calm,  grave  expres- 

208 


ORDERS. 


sion.  Giving  the  letter  back  to  his  secretary,  he  said, 
stifling  a  heavy  sigh  : 

"  Number  and  class  this  paper." 

Rodin  took  the  letter,  numbered  it,  and  placed  it  in  a 
particular  case. 

After  a  short  pause,  the  patron  continued  : 

"  You  will  receive  all  necessary  directions  from 
M.  Duplessis,  who  will  take  my  place  while  absent. 
Give  him  the  paper  concerning  the  medals,  he  will  know 
who  to  forward  it  to.  You  will  reply  to  our  communi- 
cations from  Batavia,  Leipsic,  and  Charlestown,  as  I  dic- 
tated but  now.  By  all  and  every  means  prevent  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon  from  quitting  Leipsic  ;  and 
should  (though  it  is  highly  improbable,  and  scarcely 
possible  that  such  should  be  the  case)  Prince  Djalma 
arrive  in  Batavia,  inform  M.  Joshua  Van  Dael  that  it  is 
expected  he  will  use  his  accustomed  zeal  and  energy  to 
detain  him  there." 

So  saying,  the  man  who  could  thus  turn  a  deaf  ear 
to  the  summons  of  an  expiring  parent  returned  to  his 
apartment  cool  and  self-possessed  as  ever. 

Rodin,  meanwhile,  occupied  himself  in  transcribing  in 
ciphers  the  different  replies  he  had  been  directed  to 
send. 

At  the  close  of  three-quarters  of  an  hour  thus  em- 
ployed, the  trampling  of  horses,  and  the  cracking  of 
whips  announced  the  arrival  of  the  postilions  and  post- 
horses  for  the  approaching  departure  ;  the  same  old 
domestic  who  had  previously  appeared,  having  first 
discreetly  tapped  at  the  door,  opened  it  gently,  saying : 

"  The  carriage  is  ready  !  "  and  as  Rodin  acknowledged 
his  information  by  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  the 
servant  retired  as  noiselessly  as  he  had  entered. 

The  secretary  arose,  and  in  his  turn  knocked  at  the 
door  of  his  patron's  chamber,  who,  calm  and  collected  as 
before,  but  looking  ghastly  pale,  immediately  came  forth, 
bearing  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

209 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"For  my  mother/'  said  he,  delivering  it  to  Rodin; 
"  let  a  courier  be  sent  off  with  it  instantly." 

"  This  instant,"  replied  the  secretary. 

"  And  despatch  the  three  letters  for  Leipsic,  Batavia, 
and  Gharlestown,  by  the  customary  mode  of  conveyance  ; 
it  is  of  the  very  utmost  importance  that  they  be  sent 
without  a  minute's  delay.    You  understand  ?  " 

Such  were  the  last  words  of  this  man,  who,  acting  as 
pitilessly  towards  himself  as  he  was  doing  to  others, 
departed  without  making  any  further  effort  to  visit 
his  dying  mother. 

His  secretary  respectfully  accompanied  him  to  the  door 
of  his  carriage. 

"  What  route  do  I  take,  monsieur  ? "  asked  the  courier, 
turning  around  in  his  saddle. 

"To  Italy,"  replied  Rodin's  patron,  with  a  sigh  so 
deep,  so  full  of  suffering,  that  it  more  resembled  a 
sob. 

As  the  carriage  dashed  off  at  full  speed,  Rodin  bowed 
with  profound  respect,  and  then  retraced  his  steps  to  the 
large,  cold,  naked-looking  apartment  he  had  just  quitted. 
And  now  that  he  found  himself  alone  in  it,  his  attitude, 
demeanour,  and  countenance  appeared  to  undergo  an 
entire  transformation. 

No  longer  the  mere  automaton  yielding  an  implicit 
and  mechanical  obedience  to  the  will  and  commands  of 
another,  he  seemed  to  increase  in  height,  while  his 
hitherto  motionless  features  and  downcast  eyes  were 
lighted  up  by  an  expression  of  fiendish  audacity,  while  a 
sardonic  smile  played  on  his  thin,  pale  lips,  and  a  sinister, 
self-satisfied  gleam  diffused  itself  over  his  wrinkled, 
contracted  countenance. 

He,  too,  paused  to  contemplate  the  ponderous  globe, 
and  his  meditations  were  evidently  as  deep  and  absorb- 
ing as  his  master's  had  been.  Then  stooping  over  it, 
and  almost  embracing  it  with  his  long,  lank  arms,  he 
continued  to  feast  his  reptile  gaze  with  its  dotted  sur- 

210 


ORDERS. 


face  ;  then  passing  his  hard,  bony  finger  over  the  polished 
surface  of  the  globe,  he,  by  turns,  tapped  with  his  broad, 
ill-shaped  nail  on  three  of  the  places  marked  with  red 
crosses,  and  as  he  touched  each  place,  so  widely 
distant  from  the  other,  he  gave  a  look  of  demoniacal 
delight  while  he  loudly  pronounced  its  name  ;  and  first 
he  uttered,  "  Leipsic,"  then  "  Charlestown,  Batavia," 
adding : 

"  In  each  of  these  so  widely  separated  cities  are  persons 
far  from  dreaming  that  here,  in  this  small,  obscure  street, 
in  the  recesses  of  this  chamber,  they  are  watched,— 
their  every  movement  known  and  followed,  and  that 
from  hence  will  instructions  be  despatched,  involving 
their  dearest  plans,  their  most  lively  interests,  and 
decrees  sent  forth  which  admit  of  no  escape  or  appeal, 
but  will  most  inexorably  be  followed  up ;  for  motives  are 
involved  affecting  the  whole  of  Europe,  —  nay,  the  uni- 
verse itself.  Happily  we  have  firm  and  able  coadjutors 
in  Leipsic,  Batavia,  and  Charlestown." 

The  individual  thus  soliloquising,  so  old,  sordid,  and 
ill-dressed,  with  his  livid,  death-like  visage,  thus  crawling 
with  slimy  tread  over  the  bright  face  of  the  earth,  as 
though  to  blot  its  fair  surface  by  needs  of  wrong  and 
treachery,  was  even  a  more  fearful  object  to  behold  as  he 
stood  than  had  been  his  employer,  when,  but  now, 
with  haughty  and  imperious  air,  he  placed  his  daring 
clutch  on  the  pole  of  that  globe,  whose  whole  extent 
seemed  barely  sufficient  to  satisfy  his  craving  ambition 
and  desire  of  domination.  The  one  resembled  an  eagle 
hovering  over  his  anticipated  prey,  the  other  reminded 
you  of  the  reptile  clasping  his  victim  in  his  inextricable 
folds  preparatory  to  destroying  it. 

At  length  Rodin  quitted  the  object  of  his  intense 
meditation,  and,  returning  to  his  desk,  eagerly  rubbed  his 
hands  with  every  appearance  of  self-gratulation,  then  pro- 
ceeded to  write  the  following  letter,  using  a  cipher  with 
which  even  his  patron  was  unacquainted. 

211 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Paris,  9  o'clock,  a.m. 

"  He  has  gone,  but  not  without  hesitation.  When  he 
received  the  order  for  departure,  he  had  just  been  sum- 
moned to  the  death-bed  of  his  mother.  He  was  told  her 
only  chance  of  life  lay  in  his  presence.  In  his  first 
emotion  he  exclaimed,  4  Shall  I  not  instantly  fly  to  my  ' 
parent  ?    I  were  a  parricide  else  ! ' 

"  Nevertheless  he  has  gone,  but  he  hesitated  in  so 
doing. 

"  I  still  carefully  watch  him.  These  lines  will  reach 
Rome  as  quickly  as  he  will. 

"  P-  S.  Assure  the  prince  cardinal  he  may  fully  rely  on 
me,  but  that  I  expect,  in  his  turn,  he  will  serve  me  with 
equal  zeal  and  activity." 

After  having  folded  and  sealed  this  letter,  Rodin 
deposited  it  in  his  pocket. 

Ten  o'clock  struck,  —  this  was  M.  Rodin's  breakfast 
hour.  He  arranged  his  papers,  and  placed  them  in  a 
drawer,  which  he  carefully  locked  and  took  the  key  from, 
brushed  his  greasy  old  hat  with  the  sleeve  of  his  coat, 
took  up  a  shabby  patched  umbrella,  and  went  out.1 

While  these  two  men  were  busied  in  this  obscure 
retreat,  laying  plans  to  injure  and  involve  the  seven 
descendants  of  a  once  proscribed  family,  a  strange  and 
mysterious  protector  appeared  to  protect  and  support  a 
family  to  which  he  likewise  claimed  affinity. 

i  After  having  cited  the  excellent  and  courageous  "  Letters  "  of  M.  Libri, 
and  the  curious  work  edited  by  M.  Paulin,  it  becomes  our  duty  equally  to  make 
mention  of  the  many  highly  valuable  and  daring  productions  on  the  Jesuits, 
recently  published  by  Messieurs  Dupin  l'aine,  Michelet,  Ed.  Quinet,  Genin 
the  Count  de  St  Priest,  —  writings  full  of  the  highest  and  most  impartial 
information,  and  m  which  the  fatal  influence  of  the  theories  promulgated 
by  this  order  are  so  admirably  displayed  and  censured.  We  should  deem 
ourselves  but  too  happy  if  the  few  humble  stones  we  bring  serve  to  aid  in  the 
powerful  (and  let  us  hope)  lasting  defence  now  being  raised  by  these  noble- 
spirited  and  right-minded  men  against  the  inroads  of  this  impure  and 
formidable  stream.  —  E.  S. 


212 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


EPILOGUE. 

The  site  is  rugged  and  wild.  It  is  a  high  hill  covered 
with  vast  blocks  of  granite,  from  amongst  which,  few 
and  far  between,  are  birch-trees  and  oaks,  whose  leaves 
already  show  the  tints  of  autumn.  These  large  trees 
appear  still  larger  in  the  red  rays  cast  by  the  setting 
sun,  and  which  resemble  the  reflection  of  a  fire. 

From  this  height  the  eye  directs  its  vision  into  a  deep 
valley  which,  shady  and  fertile,  is  half  obscured  by  the 
thin  vapour  which  descends  with  the  twilight.  The  rank 
meadows,  the  clumps  of  umbrageous  trees,  the  fields, 
shorn  of  their  ripened  grain,  mingle  in  one  dark  uni- 
form tint  which  contrasts  with  the  limpid  azure  of  the 
heavens. 

Roofs  of  gray-stone  or  slate  thrust,  in  various  places, 
their  sharp  angles  above  the  soil  of  the  valley,  for  several 
villages  were  scattered  through  it,  on  the  borders  of  a 
long  line  of  road  extending  from  north  to  west. 

It  is  the  hour  of  rest,  —  it  is  the  hour  when  generally 
the  window  of  each  hut  shines  with  the  sparkling  blaze 
of  the  cheerful  wood  fire,  and  is  seen  from  afar  through 
the  shade  of  the  foliage,  whilst  the  curling  smoke, 
hastening  through  the  chimneys,  ascends  gently  towards 
heaven. 

Yet,  strange  to  say,  it  would  appear  that  through- 
out this  district  the  hearths  are  untenanted  deserted. 

Still  more  strange,  more  fearful  still,  all  the  bells  are 
tolling  the  funeral  knell  of  the  dead. 

213 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


All  the  activity,  motion,  and  life  seem  concentrated  in 
this  dismal  sound,  which  echoes  far  and  wide. 

But  at  length,  in  this  village  almost  wrapt  in  darkness, 
the  lights  began  to  appear. 

These  are  not  produced  by  the  bright  and  joyful  flame 
of  the  rustic  hearth,  but  are  red  and  dull,  like  a  watch- 
fire  seen  through  the  evening  fog. 

And  these  lights  do  not  remain  motionless,  they  wave 
gently  towards  the  cemetery  of  each  church. 

There  the  death-knell  redoubles,  the  air  trembles 
under  the  heavy  tinkling  of  the  bells,  and,  at  rare  inter- 
vals, the  hymns  for  the  repose  of  the  souls  of  the  dead 
reach  faintly  to  the  summit  of  the  hill. 

Wherefore  so  many  burials  ?  What  is  this  valley  of 
desolation  ?  Where  are  the  peaceful  strains  that  should 
follow  the  day's  labour  ?  Why  are  they  displaced  by 
the  hymns  for  the  departed  ?  Wherefore  is  the  repose 
of  evening  replaced  by  the  repose  of  death  ? 

What  is  this  valley  of  desolation,  wherein  each  village 
bewails  so  many  dead  at  the  same  time,  and  inters  them 
at  the  same  hour,  on  the  same  night  ? 

Alas  !  the  mortality  is  so  rife,  so  rapid,  so  fearful,  that 
hardly  enough  of  the  living  are  left  to  bury  the  dead. 
During  the  day  severe  and  requisite  toil  is  done  by  the 
survivors,  and  in  the  evening  only,  on  their  return  from 
the  fields,  are  they  able,  though  worn  out  by  fatigue,  to 
make  that  deeper  furrow  in  the  soil,  in  which  they  deposit 
their  friends  and  kinsfolk  like  grains  of  wheat  in  the 
plough-land. 

This  valley  is  not  solitary  in  thus  suffering  from 
desolation. 

For  many  wretched  years  many  villages,  many  towns, 
many  cities,  nay,  immense  districts,  have  been  like  this 
valley,  —  their  hearth-fires  extinct  and  forsaken ;  have 
seen,  like  this  valley,  mourning  substituted  for  joy  ;  the 
death-toll  replace  the  sound  of  pleasure ;  have,  like 
this  valley,  wept  for  the  many  dead  the  same  day ;  and 

214 


EPILOGUE. 


buried  them  at  night,  by  the  dull  light  of  the  funereal 
torch. 

For  many  dreadful  years  a  horrible  traveller  has 
slowly  overrun  the  earth  from  pole  to  pole,  —  from  the 
furthermost  parts  of  India  and  Asia  to  the  endless  snows 
of  Siberia,  from  the  snows  of  Siberia  to  the  shores  of 
the  Atlantic  Ocean.  This  traveller,  mysterious  as  death, 
slow  as  eternity,  implacable  as  destiny,  terrible  in  the 
hand  of  God,  was  — 

The  Cholera ! 

The  noise  of  the  funeral  bells  and  hymns  ascended  still 
from  the  bottom  to  the  summit  of  the  valley,  with  a  loud 
and  wailing  voice. 

The  light  of  the  funereal  torches  was  seen  afar  through 
the  gloom  of  the  evening. 

^  The  twilight  was  not  yet  obscured,  but  there  was  that 
singular  glimmering  which  gives  to  forms  the  most 
defined  a  vague,  indefinite,  and  fantastic  appearance. 

The  stony  and  echoing  soil  of  the  mountain  path  gives 
out  the  sounds  of  a  slow,  firm,  and  equal  tread,— 
a  man  has  passed  across  the  black  trunks  of  the  tall 
trees. 

His  stature  is  high  ;  he  keeps  his  head  lowered  on  his 
breast;  his  countenance  is  noble,  gentle,  and  sad;  his 
eyebrows,  united  into  one,  extended  from  one  temple  to 
the  other,  and  spread  over  his  forehead  one  rav  of 
sinister  aspect. 

This  man  seemed  not  to  hear  the  distant  tinklings  of  the 
luneral  bells ;  and  yet,  but  two  days  before,  tranquillity, 
happiness,  health,  and  joy  reigned  in  these  spots  which 
he  had  slowly  traversed,  and  now  left  behind  him  deso- 
late and  deserted. 

But  the  traveller  wended  onwards  absorbed  in  these 
thoughts : 

"  The  thirteenth  of  February  approaches  -  they  come  ; 
those  days  in  which  the  descendants  of  my  beloved  sister, 

215 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


these  last  branches  of  our  race,  would  be  assembed  in 
Paris. 

"  Alas !  for  the  third  time,  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago,  persecution  scattered  all  over  the  earth  that 
family  which,  with  tenderness,  I  have  followed  from  age 
to  age  for  eighteen  centuries,  —  in  the  midst  of  their 
wanderings,  their  exiles,  their  changes  of  religion,  of 
fortune,  and  of  name  ! 

"  Oh,  this  family,  the  progeny  of  my  sister  —  the 
sister  of  me,  a  poor  artisan1  —  how  has  it  suffered  in 
abasements,  in  obscurity,  in  brilliancy,  in  miseries,  in 
glory  ! 

"  By  how  many  virtues  has  it  been  illustrated  —  by 
how  many  vices  stained  ! 

"  The  history  of  this  one  family  is  the  history  of  all 
the  children  of  humanity. 

"  Passing  through  so  many  generations,  flowing  through 
the  veins  of  the  poor  and  rich,  the  sovereign  and  the 
robber,  the  wise  and  the  foolish,  the  coward  and  the 
brave,  the  pious  and  the  atheist,  —  the  blood  of  my 
sister  has  been  perpetuated  to  this  time. 

"  What  of  this  family  remains  at  this  hour  ? 

"  Seven  offspring ! 

"  Two  orphan  girls,  children  of  a  proscribed  mother 
and  proscribed  father  — 

"  A  dethroned  prince  — 

"  A  poor  missionary  priest  — 

"  A  man  in  the  circumstances  of  middle  life  — 

"  A  young  maiden  of  illustrious  birth,  and  vast  for- 
tune — 

"  A  mechanic  — 

"  And  amongst  them  they  comprise  the  virtues,  the 

1  The  subject  of  the  legend  of  the  "  Wandering  Jew  "  is  that  of  a  poor 
shoemaker  of  Jerusalem.  When  Christ,  bearing  his  cross,  passed  before  his 
house,  and  asked  his  leave  to  repose  for  a  moment  on  the  stone  bench  at  his 
door,  the  Jew  replied  harshly,  "  Onwards  !  Onwards  !  "  and  refused  him.  "  It 
is  thou  who  shalt  go  onwards  —  onwards  —  till  the  end  of  time  !  "  was  Christ's 
reply,  in  a  sad  but  severe  tone.  For  more  details,  our  readers  should  refer 
to  the  eloquent  and  learned  notice  of  M.  Charles  Maguin,  which  introduces 
M.  Ed.  Quinet's  magnificent  poem  of  "  Ahasuerus."  —  Eugene  Sue. 

216 


EPILOGUE. 


courage,  the  degradation,  the  splendours,  the  miseries  of 
our  race ! 

"  Siberia  —  India  —  America  —  France  —  Fate  has 
thrown  them  in  all  these  countries ! 

"Instinct  warns  me  when  one  of  them  is  in  danger; 
then,  from  north  to  south,  from  east  to  west,  I  go  to 
them.  Yesterday  beneath  the  ices  of  the  pole,  to-day 
to  the  temperate  zone,  to-morrow  beneath  the  tropics' 
scorching  ray  ;  but,  alas  !  often  at  the  moment  when  my 
presence  would  save  them  an  invisible  hand  impels  me 
the  whirlwind  hurries  me  away,  and  

"  Onwards !    Onwards  ! 

"  Let  me  finish  my  task  ! 

"  Onwards ! 

"  One  hour  only!    One  moment's  rest ! 
"  Onwards ! 

"  Alas !  I  leave  those  I  love  on  the  very  brink  of  an 
abyss ! 

"  Onwards  !    Onwards  ! 

"  This  is  my  chastisement.  If  it  is  great  my  crime 
was  greater  still. 

"A  mechanic,  kept  in  privation  and  misery,  misfor- 
tune made  me  wicked. 

"  Oh,  cursed,  cursed  for  ever  be  the  day  when,  whilst 
I  was  fasting,  dull,  melancholy,  desperate,  because,  in 
spite  of  my  constant  labour,  my  family  were  still  in 
want,  Christ  passed  before  my  door ! 

"  Overwhelmed  by  insults,  borne  down  by  blows,  and 
bearing  with  toil  and  great  difficulty  his  heavy  cross,  he 
asked  me  to  allow  him  to  rest,  for  one  moment  only  on 
my  stone  bench.  His  forehead  poured  down  with  sweat, 
his  feet  were  bleeding,  his  face  in  agony ;  and,  with 
touching  sweetness,  he  said  to  me  :  'I  suffer  !  '  <  And  I 
also  suffer,'  I  answered,  in  a  brutal  tone,  repulsing  him 
with  harshness  and  rage  ;  <  I  suffer,  but  no  one  comes  to 
my  aid  The  pitiless  create  the  pitiless.  Onwards! 
Onwards  ! ' 


217 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Then  he,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  said  to  me  : 
"  £  And  thou  shalt  go  onwards  until  the  Day  of  Judg- 
ment ;  so  does  He  will  it,  the  Lord  who  is  in  heaven.' 
"  And  my  chastisement  began. 

"  Too  late  did  I  see  my  error ;  too  late  have  I 
known  repentance  ;  too  late  have  I  known  charity ;  too 
late,  indeed,  have  I  understood  the  divine  words  of 
him  I  so  outraged  —  those  words  which  ought  to  be 
the  law  of  all  human  kind,  — 

"  '  Love  one  another.' 

"  In  vain,  for  ages,  seeking  to  deserve  forgiveness,  ex- 
hausting my  strength  and  eloquence  in  these  heavenly 
words,  have  I  filled  with  pity  and  love  many  hearts  filled 
with  envy,  hatred,  and  all  uncharitableness ;  in  vain  have 
I  inspired  many  souls  with  a  holy  horror  of  oppression  and 
injustice. 

"  The  day  of  mercy  has  not  yet  arrived. 

"  And  as  the  first  man,  by  his  fall,  devoted  his  poster- 
ity to  misfortune,  so  would  they  say  that  I,  an  artisan, 
have  devoted  all  artisans  to  eternal  miseries,  and  that 
they  expiate  my  crime ;  for  they  alone,  for  eighteen 
centuries,  have  not  been  emancipated. 

"  For  eighteen  centuries  the  powerful  and  the  happy 
say  to  the  working  classes  what  I  said  to  the  imploring 
and  suffering  Christ : 

"  '  Onwards !    Onwards ! ' 

"  And  these  people,  like  him,  broken  down  with  fatigue 
and  bearing  a  heavy  cross,  say,  as  he  did,  with  bitter  sad- 
ness :  6  Oh,  for  pity's  sake,  some  moments  of  rest ;  we 
are  exhausted ! ' 

"  Onwards ! 

"  But  we  shall  die  on  the  way  ;  and  what  then  will 
become  of  our  little  ones,  old  mothers  ? 
"  Onwards  !    Onwards  ! 

"  And  for  ages  and  ages  they  shall  go  on,  and  on,  and 

218 


EPILOGUE. 


on,  and  suffer  —  suffer,  whilst  no  pitying  voice  says  to 
us,  Enough ! 

«  Alas  !  such  is  my  chastisement ;  it  is  terrible  to  bear ; 
it  is  twofold  weighty. 

"  I  suffer  in  the  name  of  all  humanity  when  I  see  the 
wretched  population  sacrificed,  without  relaxation,  to 
rude  and  ungrateful  toil. 

"  I  suffer  in  the  name  of  every  family  when  I  am  un- 
able —  I,  poor  and  wandering  —  to  come  to  the  rescue  of 
my  own,  of  the  descendants  of  a  dearly  beloved  sister. 

"  But  when  my  grief  o'ermasters  my  strength,  when 
I  foresee  for  my  family  a  danger  from  which  I  cannot 
save  them,  thus  traversing  worlds,  my  thoughts  desire 
to  seek  the  woman  —  cursed  as  I  am  —  that  queen's 
daughter, 1  who,  like  me,  the  child  of  an  artisan,  goes 
onwards,  onwards,  till  the  day  of  redemption. 

"  Once  only  in  a  century,  even  as  two  planets  approach 
each  other  in  their  secular  revolutions,  may  I  meet  this 
woman  —  during  the  fatal  week  of  the  Passion. 

"  And  after  this  interview,  full  of  fearful  recollections 
and  thrilling  grief,  we,  the  wandering  stars  of  eternity, 
again  proceed  on  our  endless  journey. 

"  And  she,  the  only  one  with  me  on  earth  who  is 
present  at  the  close  of  each  century,  and  says,  6  Again  ! ' 
she,  from  one  end  of  the  universe  to  the  other,  responds 
to  my  thought. 

"  She,  who  alone  in  the  world  shows  an  equal  destiny 
with  myself,  would  also  share  the  sole  interest  which 
has  for  ages  consoled  me.  These  descendants  of  my 
sister  she,  too,  loves,  —  protects  them  also.  For  them 
she  also,  too,  from  the  east  and  the  west,  and  the  north 
and  the  south,  goes  —  comes. 

"But,  alas!  the  invisible  hand  impels  her  also,  the 

whirlwind  hurries  her  away  likewise.  And  

"  Onwards  ! 

w/JprSfe^  a  HgTn<^  but  little  known>  Herodias.  was  condemned  to 
head  y      Jud£ment  for  having  demanded  John  the  Baptist's 

219 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


" 6  Let  me  but  complete  my  task,'  she  too  exclaims. 
"  Onwards  I- 

" <  One  hour,  one  single  hour  of  rest ! ' 
"  Onwards  ! 

•  "  6 1  leave  those  I  love  on  the  brink  of  an  abyss.' 
"  Onwards  !    Onwards  !  " 

Whilst  this  man  thus  passed  along  the  mountain 
deeply  abstracted  in  his  thoughts,  the  evening  breeze,  till 
then  but  light,  had  increased,  the  wind  became  louder 
and  louder,  and  lightning  darted  along  the  sky ;  whilst 
deep  and  loud  howlings  announced  the  coming  storm. 
Suddenly,  this  accursed  man,  who  could  neither  weep 
nor  smile,  shuddered. 

No  physical  harm  could  affect  him  ;  yet  he  placed  his 
hand  suddenly  on  his  heart,  as  if  he  experienced  some 
deadly  blow. 

"  Oh,"  he  cried,  "  I  feel  it !  At  this  hour,  many  of 
my  race,  the  descendants  of  my  dearly  beloved  sister, 
suffer  and  undergo  great  peril,  —  some  in  uttermost 
India,  others  in  America,  others  here  in  Germany.  The 
struggle  again  commences  —  devilish  passions  are  again 
excited.  Oh,  thou  who  nearest  me,  thou,  wandering  as 
I  am,  and  accursed  as  I  am,  Herodias,  aid  me  to  protect 
them  ;  let  my  prayer  reach  thee  in  the  depths  of  the  soli- 
tudes of  America,  where  at  this  moment  thou  art !  Oh, 
that  we  may  be  in  time  to  save  them ! " 

Then  a  remarkable  phenomenon  occurred. 

It  was  now  night. 

This  man  made  an  effort  to  return  quickly  on  his 
path  ;  but  an  invisible  form  prevented  him,  and  thrust 
him  in  the  opposite  direction. 

At  this  moment  the  tempest  burst  forth  in  all  its 
dark  and  fierce  majesty. 

One  of  those  whirlwinds  which  uproots  trees,  tears  up 
rocks,  passed  over  the  mountain-top  as  quick  and  terrible 
as  the  levin  bolt. 

220 


EPILOGUE. 


In  the  midst  of  the  howling  of  the  storm,  and  the 
glare  of  the  lightning,  the  man,  with  the  forehead 
branded  by  his  black  hair,  was  seen  hurrying  along  the 
mountainside,  and  descending  with  rapid  strides  across 
the  rocks  and  trees,  bent  beneath  the  power  of  the 
hurricane. 

His  step  was  no  longer  slow,  firm,  composed  ;  but 
painfully  impelled,  like  a  person  hurried  on  by  an  irre- 
sistible force,  or  whom  a  fearful  storm  carried  away  in 
its  whirlwind. 

In  vain  did  the  man  extend  his  supplicating  hands 
towards  heaven,  he  disappeared  rapidly  in  the  darkness 
of  the  night  and  the  howl  of  the  tempest. 


221 


I 


Part  III. 
THE  STRANGLERS 


223 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


THE  AJOUPA. 


Whilst  M.  Rodin  was  despatching  his  universal  corre- 
spondence from  the  Rue  du  Mileu-des-Ursins,  at  Paris  ; 
whilst  the  daughters  of  General  Simon,  after  having, 
quitted  the  inn  of  the  White  Falcon  as  fugitives,  were 
with  Dagobert,  confined  as  prisoners  at  Leipsic,  other 
scenes,  in  which  they  were  deeply  interested,  were  passing 
similarly,  and  at  the  same  moment,  at  the  other  extrem- 
ity of  the  world,  in  the  very  depths  of  Asia,  in  the  isle 
of  Java  not  far  from  the  city  of  Batavia,  the  residence 

M  Rodin  Daa>        °f        corresP°ndents  of 

Java!— that  magnificent  and  fearful  clime,  where 
the  most  lovely  flowers  conceal  the  most  hideous  rep- 
tiles;  where  the  most  tempting  fruits  contain  the  most 
subtle  poisons;  where  spring  those  splendid  trees  whose 
shadow  is  death  ;  where  the  vampire,  an  enormous  bat, 
sucks  up  the  blood  of  the  victims  whose  sleep  he  pro- 
longs, by  wafting  over  them  an  air  full  of  freshness  and 
perfume,  for  the  most  briskly  used  fan  is  not  more  rapid 
than  the  motion  of  the  vast  and  scented  wings  of  this 
monster.  & 

The  month  of  October,  1831,  was  nearly  at  its  close. 

It  is  noon,  an  hour  almost  deadly  for  any  one  who 
dares  the  burning  sun,  which  was  full  in  the  sky,  whose 
blue  enamel  was  dappled  with  streaks  of  blazing  light 

An  ajoupa  a  sort  of  sleeping  pavilion,  made  with  mats 
ot  bulrush  stretched  upon  thick  bamboos  driven  deeply 

225 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

into  the  ground,  might  be  seen  in  the  midst  of  the  dark 
blue  shade  cast  by  a  tuft  of  trees,  whose  verdure  was  as 
bright  as  the  greenest  porcelain ;  those  trees,  of  fantas- 
tic forms,  were  here  bent  into  the  shape  of  arcades, 
here  straight  as  arrows,  there  arranged  like  parasols, 
and  so  tufty,  so  thick,  so  entangled  one  in  the  other, 
that  the  roof  they  formed  was  impenetrable  to  rain. 

The  ground,  always  marshy  in  spite  of  the  glowing 
heat,  disappeared  here  beneath  the  masses  of  bindweed, 
fern,  and  thick  rushes,  all  in  the  freshness  and  vigour  of 
rank  vegetation,  and  which,  growing  almost  to  the  top 
of  the  ajoupa,  concealed  it  like  a  nest  amidst  the  grass. 

Nothing  could  be  more  suffocating  than  this  atmos- 
phere, scented  as  it  was  with  moist  exhalations,  which 
steamed  up  like  boiling  water,  and  impregnated  as  it 
was  with  the  most  overpowering  and  pungent  odours, — 
for  the  cinnamon-tree,  the  ginger,  the  gardenia,  the 
stephanotis,  mingling  amongst  these  trees  and  creepers, 
gave  out  in  volumes  their  sable  and  acrid  odours. 

This  cabin  was  covered  over  with  large  banana  leaves  ; 
at  one  end  was  a  square  aperture,  which  served  for  a 
window,  and  trellised  over  very  finely  with  vegetable 
fibres,  to  prevent  the  noxious  reptiles  and  venomous 
insects  from  entering  the  ajoupa. 

The  vast  trunk  of  a  dead  tree,  still  standing  but 
very  much  bent,  and  whose  top  touched  the  roof  of  the 
ajoupa,  sprung  from  the  underwood  ;  from  each  cleft  and 
crevice  of  its  black,  rugged,  and  moss-covered  bark  there 
appeared  a  peculiar  and  fantastic  flower,  —  the  wing  of 
a  butterfly  is  not  of  more  fragile  tissue,  of  more  brilliant 
purple,  or  more  velvety  black,  —  those  unknown  birds 
we  see  in  dreams  have  not  forms  more  bizarre  than 
these  orchids,  winged  flowers,  which  always  seem 
ready  to  fly  away  from  their  slender  and  leafless  stalks ; 
the  curling  cactus,  flexible  and  rounded,  and  which  seem 
like  apples,  also  clung  around  the  trunk  of  this  tree,  and 
their  green  arms,  laden  with  large  bell-flowers  of  a 

226 


THE  AJOUPA. 


silvery  white,  shaded  within  by  a  brilliant  orange,  hung 
down  in  clusters,  shedding  a  strong  odour  of  vanilla. 

A  little  snake,  of  a  blood-red  colour,  about  as  thick 
as  a  quill,  and  five  or  six  inches  in  length,  hung  with 
his  head  half  out  of  one  of  these  enormous  perfumed 
cups,  in  which  he  lay  nestled  and  coiled. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  ajoupa  was  a  young  man, 
stretched  on  a  mat  and  soundly  asleep. 

To  contemplate  his  clear  yellow  and  gold-coloured 
complexion,  he  might  have  been  taken  for  a  statue  of 
pale  copper,  on  which  a  sunbeam  rested;  his  attitude 
was  simple  and  graceful,  —  his  right  arm  was  folded 
under  his  head,  which  reposed  upon  it,  and  was  some- 
what raised  and  in  profile;  his  large  dress  of  white 
muslin,  with  long  hanging  sleeves,  displayed  his  chest, 
worthy  of  Antinous ;  marble  is  not  more  firm  and  solid 
than  his  skin,  of  which  the  dark  hue  contrasted  singu- 
larly with  the  whiteness  of  his  dress.  On  his  wide  and 
powerful  chest  was  a  deep  scar,  which  he  had  received 
from  a  musket-ball  when  defending  the  life  of  General 
Simon,  the  father  of  Rose  and  Blanche. 

He  wore  around  his  neck  a  small  medal  similar  to  that 
which  the  two  sisters  possessed. 

It  was  Djalma  the  Indian. 

His  features  were  equally  noble  and  beautiful;  his 
hair  was  of  a  blue-black,  parted  over  the  forehead,  and 
falling  wavy,  but  not  curling,  on  his  shoulder ;  his  eye- 
brows, boldly  and  perfectly  drawn,  were  also  of  jet 
black,  as  were  the  long  eyelids  whose  shade  was  thrown 
over  his  beardless  cheeks ;  his  lips,  of  a  dark  red,  half 
open  gave  forth  an  appropriate  sigh,  whilst  his  slumber 
was  heavy  and  painful,  as  the  heat  became  more  and 
more  suffocating. 

Without  the  silence  was  profound.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  air  stirring. 

After  a  few  moments,  however,  the  vast  creepers 
which  covered  the  ground  began  to  move  almost  imper- 

227 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


ceptibly,  as  if  some  animal  slowly  creeping  along  had 
shaken  their  stalks. 

From  time  to  time  this  slight  movement  ceased,  and 
all  was  again  still  as  death. 

After  several  intervals  between  this  motion  and  its 
cessation,  a  human  head  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the 
rushes  at  a  short  distance  from  the  trunk  of  the  decayed 
tree. 

It  was  a  man  of  sinister  aspect,  with  a  complexion  of 
greenish  bronze,  his  long  hair  twisted  about  his  head, 
his  eyes  glaring  with  savage  feeling,  and  a  countenance 
replete  with  intelligence  and  ferocity. 

Holding  his  breath,  he  remained  for  a  moment  motion- 
less, and  then,  advancing  on  his  hands  and  knees,  pushed 
aside  the  leaves  so  gently  that  not  a  sound  was  heard ; 
and  thus  progressing,  until  he  reached  the  sloping  trunk 
of  the  dead  tree  whose  top  reached  nearly  to  the  top  of 
the  ajoupa. 

This  man,  a  Malay  by  origin,  and  belonging  to  the 
sect  of  Stranglers,1  having  again  carefully  listened,  drew 
himself  almost  entirely  out  of  the  underwood.  Except- 
ing a  sort  of  white  cotton  drawers  fastened  around  his 
loins  by  a  handkerchief  of  most  gaudy  colours,  he  was 
entirely  naked,  whilst  a  thick  dressing  of  oil  was  smeared 
all  over  his  bronzed,  supple,  and  nervous  limbs. 

Stretching  himself  upon  the  vast  bole  of  the  tree  on 
the  side  farthest  from  the  hut,  and  thus  concealed  by  the 
bulk  of  the  tree  almost  overgrown  by  the  creepers,  he 
began  to  climb  it  with  extreme  care  and  patience.  In 
the  undulations  of  his  backbone,  the  flexibility  of  his 
movements,  and  his  enduring  strength,  the  extent  of 
which  must  have  been  terrible,  there  was  something 
which  resembled  the  still  and  treacherous  step  of  the  tiger 
crawling  to  his  prey. 

Reaching  at  length,  and  unobserved,  the  part  of  the 

1  Phansigars,  or  stranglers  (from  the  Hindoo  word  phasna,  to  strangle). 
We  shall  give,  further  on,  details  of  this  remarkable  community,  called  "  The 
Good  Work." 

228 


THE  AJOUPA. 


tree  which  m  its  bend  almost  touched  the  roof  of  the  cabin 
he  was  not  more  than  a  foot  distance  from  the  small 
window.  Then,  stretching  forth  his  head  with  the 
utmost  caution,  he  cast  his  eyes  into  the  interior  of  the 
hut,  and  tried  to  discover  some  mode  by  which  he  could 
enter. 

At  the  sight  of  Djalma  in  a  deep  sleep,  the  bright 
eyes  of  the  Strangler  shone  with  redoubled  brilliancy 
and  a  nervous  contraction,  or,  rather,  a  silent  and  scorn- 
iul  laugh,  curling  the  two  corners  of  his  mouth,  drew 
them  up  towards  his  cheek-bones,  and  displayed  two 
rows  of  teeth  filed  triangularly  like  the  teeth  of  a  saw, 
and  dyed  of  a  jet  and  shining  black. 

Djalma  was  sleeping  so,  and  so  near  the  door  of  the 
ajoupa  (which  opened  inwards  from  without),  that  if 
any  one  had  attempted  to  open  the  door  ever  so  little  he 
w^ould  have  awakened  in  an  instant. 

The  Strangler,  whose  body  was  hidden  by  the  tree, 
desiring  to  examine  the  interior  of  the  cabin  a  little 
more  closely,  leaned  forward,  and,  to  maintain  his  posi- 
tion, placed  his  hand  lightly  on  the  sill  of  the  opening 
which  served  for  a  window;  his  motion  shook  the  laro-e 
flower  of  the  cactus,  at  the  bottom  of  which  the  small 
snake  lay  coiled,  and,  darting  out,  he  twined  rapidly 
around  the  Strangler's  wrist. 

Pain  and  surprise  extracted  from  him  a  slight  cry 
and,  as  he  retreated  behind  the  tree  to  which  he  still 
clung,  he  saw  that  Djalma  had  stirred. 

The  young  Indian,  still  keeping  his  posture  of  renose, 
halt  opened  his  eyes,  turned  his  head  towards  the  little 
window,  and  breathed  forth  a  very  deep  sigh,  for  the 
concentrated  heat  under  this  thick  vault  of  humid 
verdure  was  intolerable. 

Djalma  had  scarcely  stirred,  when  there  was  heard 
from  behind  the  tree  that  brief,  sharp,  and  shrill  cry, 
which  the  bird  of  paradise  utters  when  he  seizes  his 
prey,  and  which  resembles  the  pheasant's  mate. 

229 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


This  cry,  often  repeated,  became  weaker  and  weaker, 
as  if  the  beautiful  bird  was  on  the  wing.  And  Djalma, 
believing  that  he  had  discovered  the  cause  of  the  noise 
which  had  aroused  him  for  the  moment,  slightly  stretched 
the  arm  on  which  his  head  rested,  and  went  off  to  sleep 
again  almost  without  changing  his  position. 

For  some  minutes  the  most  profound  silence  reigned 
again  in  this  solitude.    All  was  silent. 

The  Strangler,  by  his  skilful  imitation  of  the  cry  of  a 
bird,  had  managed  to  repair  the  imprudent  exclamation 
of  surprise  and  agony  which  the  reptile's  sting  had  wrung 
from  him.  When  he  imagined  that  Djalma  would  be 
again  asleep,  he  carefully  protruded  his  head,  and  saw 
that  the  youthful  Indian  was  again  slumbering  soundly. 

Then  descending  the  tree  with  the  same  precautions 
he  had  hitherto  observed,  although  his  left  hand  was 
swollen  from  the  bite  of  the  serpent,  he  disappeared 
amidst  the  tufts  of  rushes. 

At  this  moment  there  was  heard  a  distant  singing,  in 
a  monotonous  and  melancholy  voice. 

The  Strangler  stood  up,  listened  attentively,  and  his 
face  assumed  an  expression  of  surprise  and  sinister 
meaning. 

The  sound  drew  nearer  to  the  cabin. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  seconds  an  Indian  appeared  in  an 
opening,  coming  straight  to  the  spot  where  the  Strangler 
was  hidden. 

He  then  took  a  long  and  thin  cord  which  was  encir- 
cled around  his  waist,  at  one  of  the  extremities  of  which 
was  a  ball  of  lead,  in  shape  and  size  like  an  egg.  After 
having  tied  the  other  end  of  this  string  around  his  right 
wrist,  the  Strangler  again  listened,  and  then  disappeared, 
groping  his  way  along  the  tall  grass  in  the  direction 
of  the  Indian,  who  came  on  slowly,  singing  his  plaintive 
and  gentle  ditty. 

He  was  a  young  man,  hardly  twenty  years  of  age,  the 
slave  of  Djalma,  and  had  the  dark  skin  of  his  country. 

230 


THE  AJOUPA. 


His  waist  was  encircled  with  a  gay  handkerchief,  which 
confined  his  blue  cotton  vest,  and  he  wore  a  small  turban, 
with  rings  of  silver  in  his  ears  and  around  his  wrists. 
He  was  bringing  a  message  to  his  master,  who,  during 
the  heat  of  the  day,  was  reposing  in  this  ajoupa,  which 
was  at  some  distance  from  the  house  in  which  he  resided. 

When  he  reached  a  point  where  the  path  divided,  the 
slave,  without  hesitating,  took  that  which  led  to  the  hut, 
from  which  he  was  then  hardly  forty  paces  distant. 

One  of  those  enormous  butterflies  of  Java,  whose 
wings,  when  extended,  measure  from  six  to  eight  inches 
across,  and  displaying  two  rays  of  gold,  arising  from  a 
body  of  ultramarine,  was  flitting  from  leaf  to  leaf,  and 
had  just  settled  on  a  bush  of  gardenias  within  reach  of 
the  young  Indian. 

He  ceased  his  song,  stopped,  put  out  his  foot  carefully, 
then  his  hand,  and  seized  the  butterfly. 

At  this  instant  the  sinister  visage  of  the  Strangler 
arose  before  him ;  he  heard  a  whistling  like  that  of  a 
sling,  and  then  felt  a  cord,  thrown  with  equal  swiftness 
and  power,  encircle  his  neck  with  a  triple  fold,  and,  at 
the  same  moment,  the  lead  with  which  it  was  loaded 
struck  him  violently  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

The  assault  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that 

Djalma's  attendant  could  not   utter  one   cry  one 

groan. 

m  He  staggered  —  the  Strangler  gave  a  violent  twist  to 
his  cord  — the  dark  visage  of  the  slave  became  a  black 
purple,  and  he  fell  on  his  knees,  tossing  his  arms  wildly 
in  the  air. 

The  Strangler  turned  him  over,  and  twisted  his  cord 
so  violently  that  the  blood  rushed  through  the  skin. 
The  victim  made  a  few  convulsive  struggles,  and  all 
was  over. 

During  this  rapid  but  brief  agony,  the  murderer, 
kneeling  beside  his  victim,  watched  his  blighted  convul- 
sions, fixing  his  glaring  eyes  on  him,  and  appearing  as 

231 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


if  enjoying  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  His  nostrils  expanded, 
the  veins  in  his  temples  and  neck  swelled  thickly,  and 
the  same  sinister  laugh,  which  had  curled  his  lips  when 
he  saw  Djalma  sleeping,  again  displayed  his  black  and 
pointed  fangs,  whilst  a  convulsion  of  the  jaw  made  them 
chatter  against  each  other. 

But  soon  he  crossed  his  arms  over  his  panting  chest, 
bent  his  forehead,  and  murmured  forth  mysterious  words, 
which  seemed  either  an  invocation  or  a  prayer,  and  then 
again  he  resumed  that  savage  contemplation  with  which 
the  sight  of  the  dead  carcass  inspired  him. 

The  hyena  and  the  tiger-cat,  who  always  crouch 
beside  the  prey  they  have  surprised  in  the  chase  before 
they  devour  it,  have  not  a  look  more  fierce,  bloody,  and 
rejoicing  than  had  this  man. 

But,  recollecting  that  his  task  was  not  yet  accom- 
plished, he  tore  himself  away  with  regret  from  this 
sight  of  death,  and,  disentangling  his  cord  from  the 
neck  of  his  victim,  he  restored  it  to  its  place  around 
his  waist,  dragged  the  dead  corpse  out  of  the  pathway, 
and,  without  attempting  to  despoil  it  of  its  rings  of 
silver,  hid  the  body  in  a  thick  bush  of  rushes. 

Then  the  Strangler,  again  going  on  hands  and  knees, 
reached  Djalma's  cabin,  which  was  made  of  mats  fas- 
tened to  bamboos. 

After  having  listened  very  attentively,  he  drew  from 
his  waist  a  knife,  whose  keen  and  glittering  blade  was 
wrapped  in  a  leaf  of  banana,  and  cut  in  a  mat  an  incision 
about  three  feet  long.  This  he  did  so  rapidly,  and  with 
a  blade  so  trenchant,  that  the  slight  noise  of  a  diamond 
over  glass  sounds  more  loudly. 

Seeing  through  this  opening,  which  he  intended  to 
pass  through,  that  Djalma  still  slept,  the  Strangler  glided 
into  the  hut  with  unhesitating  boldness. 


232 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  TATTOOING. 


The  sky,  which  until  then  was  of  a  transparent  azure, 
became  overcast,  and  the  sun  was  partially  hidden  by  a 
red  and  lowering  mist. 

This  strange  light  cast  curious  shadows  on  all  objects 
and  everything  seemed  as  a  landscape  would  do  viewed 
through  a  piece  of  copper-coloured  glass. 
_  In  these  climates,  this  phenomenon,  united  with  the 
increase  of  the  fierce  heat,  always  announces  the  approach 
of  a  tempest. 

From  time  to  time  there  was  a  sulphurous  smell,  then 
the  leaves,  slightly  stirred  by  the  electric  current,  trem- 
bled on  their  stalks,  then  fell  into  a  silence  and  utter 
want  of  motion. 

The  weight  of  this  burning  atmosphere,  saturated  with 
acrid  perfumes,  became  almost  insupportable.  Large 
beads  of  sweat  dropped  from  Djalma's  brow,  plunged 
as  he  was  in  enervating  sleep,  which  was  no  refreshment 
or  repose,  but  an  overwhelming  pain. 

The  Strangler,  gliding  along  the  sides  of  the  ajoupa, 
and  crawling  on  his  stomach  to  Djalma's  mat,  at  first 
stooped  low  beside  him,  and  then  raised  himself  up 
occupying  the  smallest  possible  space. 

Then  began  a  fearful  scene,  surrounded  bv  mvsterv 
and  m  silence. 

The  life  of  Djalma  was  at  the  Strangler's  mercy,  who 
drawing  himself  together,  and  supporting  his  whole' 
weight  upon  his  hands  and  knees,  remained  with  ex- 

233 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


tended  neck  and  fixed  gaze,  like  a  wild  beast  about  to 
spring  upon  his  prey,  a  slight  convulsive  tremor  in  his 
lower  jaw  alone  disturbing  his  bronzed  countenance; 
but  quickly  were  his  hideous  features  distorted  by  the 
struggle  passing  within  him  between  the  thirst  for  blood, 
the  enjoyment  of  murder,  doubly  excited  by  the  recent 
assassination  of  the  slave,  and  the  prohibition  he  had 
received  not  to  aim  at  the  life  of  Djalma,  although  the 
motive  which  had  brought  him  to  the  ajoupa  was  fraught 
with  evil  designs  the  young  Indian  would  have  dreaded 
far  more  than  death  itself. 

Twice  had  the  Strangler,  whose  looks  kindled  momen- 
tarily into  increased  ferocity,  supporting  himself  only  on 
his  right  hand,  seized  the  extremity  of  his  fatal  cord,  but 
the  murderous  design  failed  before  the  all-powerful  influ- 
ence which  bore  irresistible  control  over  the  mind  of 
the  Malay,  and  the  extended  hand  was  involuntarily 
withheld  even  at  the  moment  when  his  savage  soul 
most  craved  for  blood ;  and,  in  his  insensate  craving 
for  murder,  he  allowed  precious  moments  to  escape, 
which  might  involve  not  only  the  success  of  his  mis- 
sion, but  his  very  life ;  for  Djalma,  whose  vigour, 
address,  and  courage  were  everywhere  known  and 
estimated,  might  awake,  and,  though  unarmed,  prove 
a  formidable  adversary. 

As,  at  length,  these  reflections  forced  themselves  on 
the  mind  of  the  Strangler,  with  a  deep  and  bitter  sigh  he 
resigned  himself  to  the  stern  necessity  of  allowing  his 
victim  to  live,  and  prepared  himself  to  accomplish  the 
task  assigned  him,  —  a  task  which,  to  any  but  him, 
would  have  appeared  utterly  impossible.  Let  the  reader 
judge  for  himself. 

Djalma  was  sleeping  with  his  face  turned  towards  the 
left  hand,  his  head  supported  on  his  arm.  It  was  there- 
fore requisite  to  induce  him,  without  waking,  to  alter  his 
position  by  turning  in  a  contrary  direction ;  that  is  to 
say,  towards  the  door,  that,  in  the  event  of  his  suddenly 

234 


THE  TATTOOING. 


awakening,  his  first  glance  might  not  fall  on  the  Malay  ; 
and,  in  order  to  effect  this,  it  was  requisite  the  latter 
should  remain  some  time  in  the  pavilion. 

Meanwhile  the  heavens  became  more  overcast,  and 
the  heat  became  intense.  All  conspired  to  prolong  the 
deep  slumber  of  the  prince  and  to  favour  the  designs  of 
the  Strangler,  who,  kneeling  beside  the  young  Indian, 
passed  his  quick  fingers,  previously  rendered  soft  and 
supple  by  oiling  them,  over  the  eyelids,  forehead,  and 
temples  of  Djalma,  managing  the  operation  so  delicately 
and  skilfully  as  to  render  the  contact  of  the  two  skins 
scarcely  perceptible. 

As  the  magnetic  incantation  proceeded,  the  large 
drops  of  perspiration  which  bedewed  the  countenance 
of  the  sleeper  became  more  abundantly  large ;  he  sighed 
heavily,  and  a  convulsive  tremor  passed  over  his  fea- 
tures; for  these  light  touches,  though  insufficient  to 
break  his  trance-like  slumber,  yet  evidently  caused  him 
a  feeling  of  great  uneasiness  and  discomfort. 

Watching  him  with  an  eager,  anxious  eye,  the  Stran- 
gler continued  his  manoeuvre  with  so  much  patience, 
perseverance,  and  dexterity  that  Djalma,  whose  sleep 
remained  unbroken,  unable  longer  to  endure  the  oppres- 
sive sensations  he  experienced  without  being  in  any  way 
conscious  of  their  origin,  yet  restless  and  uncomfortable, 
mechanically  threw  his  right  arm  across  his  face,  as 
though  to  free  himself  from  the  annoyance  of  some 
troublesome  insect  which  had  found  admission  to  the 
ajoupa,  but,  yielding  to  the  enervating  effects  of  the 
heat  which  prevailed,  his  uplifted  hand  fell  heavy  and 
powerless  on  his  breast. 

Perceiving  by  this  favourable  circumstance  that  he 
was  proceeding  towards  the  full  accomplishment  of  his 
design,  the  Strangler  redoubled  his  manoeuvres  and  in- 
creased his  applications  to  the  temples  and  forehead  of 
his  victim ;  and  this  he  effected  with  so  much  address, 
that  Djalma,  yielding  more  and  more  to  the  drowsiness 

235 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


it  inspired,  and  having  neither  will  nor  power  sufficient 
to  direct  his  hand  towards  his  face,  mechanically  moved 
his  head,  which  sunk  languidly  on  his  right  shoulder,  as 
though  seeking  by  this  change  of  position  to  escape  from 
the  disagreeable  feelings  which  surrounded  him.  This 
point  achieved,  the  Malay  now  went  boldly  to  work,  but, 
anxious  to  render  the  slumber  he  had  partially  disturbed 
as  sound  as  possible,  he  sought  to  imitate  the  deadly 
practice  of  the  vampire,  which  fans  its  prey  into  the 
sleep  ending  but  in  death,  by  the  undulations  of  its  wings. 
So  did  the  Strangler  continue  gently  to  wave  and  agitate 
his  hands,  with  the  rapid  motion  of  a  fan,  over  the 
burning  countenance  of  the  young  Indian. 

At  this  delightful  and  unexpected  change  from  oppres- 
sive heat  to  refreshing  coolness,  the  features  of  the  prince 
assumed  a  look  of  soft  repose  and  peaceful  enjoyment ; 
his  chest  expanded,  his  respiration  became  easy  and 
gentle,  while  his  half  open  lips  seemed  to  court  the 
beneficent  breeze  which  had  just  arisen ;  and  his  sleep 
became  so  much  the  sounder,  as  it  now  was  the  result 
of  perfect  ease  and  enjoyment,  instead  of  being  (as 
before)  in  a  manner  forced  and  constrained. 

A  sudden  flash  of  lightning  illumined  the  leafy  screen 
which  encircled  the  ajoupa ;  and  the  Malay,  fearing  that 
the  noise  of  the  accompanying  thunder  might  awaken 
the  prince,  lost  not  an  instant  in  the  fulfilment  of  his 
project. 

Djalma  now  lay  extended  on  his  back,  with  his  head 
on  his  right  shoulder,  while  his  right  arm  was  extended 
at  full  length.  The  Strangler,  concealing  himself  on  the 
left  side  of  the  bed,  ceased  by  degrees  to  fan  the  prince, 
and  with  incredible  dexterity  proceeded  to  lift  up  the 
long  white  muslin  sleeve  of  his  dress  almost  to  the 
shoulder. 

Then  drawing  from  the  pocket  of  his  cotton  drawers 
a  small  brass  box,  he  took  from  it  a  needle  of  an  almost 
indescribable  fineness  and  sharpness,  and  a  piece  of  dark- 

236 


THE  TATTOOING. 


looking  root,  into  which  he  plunged  the  needle  repeatedly, 
and  at  each  injection  there  issued  forth  a  white  viscous 
liquid. 

<  When  the  Strangler  deemed  the  needle  sufficiently 
imbued  with  the  juice  of  the  root,  he  bent  over  his 
sleeping  victim  and  blew  gently  upon  the  internal 
portion  of  Djalma's  arm,  in  order  to  induce  him  to 
extend  it  to  receive  the  additional  coolness  by  his 
breath;  then  with  the  point  of  his  fine  needle  he 
traced  on  the  arm  of  the  prince  certain  mysterious 
and  symbolical  signs  and  characters. 

All  this  was  executed  with  so  much  skill  and  quick- 
ness that  Djalma  was  utterly  unconscious  of  the  opera- 
tion, and  felt  not  the  fine  and  delicate  point  of  the 
instrument,  or  the  slight  puncture  it  made  as  it  slightly 
wounded  the  epidermis. 

At  first  the  marks  traced  by  the  Strangler  were  of  a 
taint  pink  colour,  so  pale  as  to  be  scarcely  visible,  and 
as  fine  as  a  hair ;  but  so  potent  and  penetrating  was  the 
power  of  the  juice  into  which  the  needle  had  been  dipped, 
that,  as  it  spread  beneath  the  skin  and  mingled  with  the 
fine  veins  it  passed  over,  the  colour  deepened  by  degrees, 
until,  at  the  lapse  of  a  few  hours,  the  at  first  indistinct 
and  almost  invisible  characters  assumed  a  deep  blood- 
coloured  hue,  recognisable  at  the  quickest  glance. 

The  Strangler,  having  thus  successfully  performed  his 
mission,  surveyed  the  slumbering  Indian  with  a  look  of 
brutal  satisfaction,  and,  bestowing  a  last  lingering  look  of 
murderous  ferocity,  crawled  away  as  silently  as  he  had  en- 
tered and,  regaining  the  opening  which  had  served  to 
admit  him  within  the  hut,  he  carefully  closed  the  aperture 
so  as  to  effectually  prevent  any  suspicion  of  his  visit,  and 
disappeared  m  the  mazes  of  the  forest,  just  as  the  loud 
thunder  began  to  peal  forth  its  threatening  notes.1 

in^«fe  "How- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


may  occasion,  by  promptly  imitating  the  cry  of  a  jackal,  or  some  bird  of 
prey,  when  a  confederate  will  almost  immediately  respond  by  giving  a  simi- 
lar note,  as  though  from  some  animal  in  the  distance  ;  they  annoy  the  sleeper 
by  various  sounds,  by  different  modes  of  touching  him,  and  can  always 
oblige  their  victim  to  assume  the  attitude  and  position  best  suited  to  their 
designs." 

M.  le  Comte  Edward  de  Warren,  in  his  admirable  work  on  British  India, 
which  we  shall  have  further  occasion  to  quote,  thus  expresses  himself: 

"  These  men,"  observes  he,  "  carry  their  address  so  far  as  to  be  able  to 
deprive  you  of  the  very  sheet  on  which  you  are  sleeping  without  in  the  least 
disturbing  your  slumber ;  and  this  is  not  intended  figuratively,but  as  a  literal 
fact.  The  managements  of  the  Bheel  are  those  of  a  wily  serpent.  Should  an 
individual  be  sleeping  in  his  tent,  with  a  servant  stretched  outside  each  door 
conducting  to  it,  the  Bheel  will  crouch  down  in  the  shadow,  and  carefully 
listen  to  the  respiration  of  all  within  and  without  the  tent;  directly  the 
European  sleeps,  he  is  sure  of  his  game ;  he  knows  full  well  the  Asiatic  will 
not  long  resist  the  influence  of  the  drowsy  god.  At  the  auspicious  moment 
for  his  design,  he  softly  cuts  a  round  piece  from  the  covering  of  the  tent, 
sufficiently  large  to  admit  his  body,  which  he  slips  through  so  stealthily  and 
silently  as  not  to  disturb  a  single  grain  of  sand.  He  is  entirely  naked,  his 
body  well  oiled,  and  a  small  poignard  suspended  around  his  neck.  Crouching 
down  beside  the  bed  he,  with  a  coolness  and  dexterity  almost  passing  belief,  be- 
gins folding  the  sheet  on  which  the  sleeper  is  extended,  in  fine  folds  close  to  the 
body  lying  on  it ;  then,  passing  to  the  other  side  of  the  couch,  he  commences 
a  series  of  magnetic  touches  and  light  tickling,  to  avoid  which  the  sleeper 
instinctively  draws  himself  away,  and  ultimately  turns  completely  around, 
leaving  the  sheet  at  the  mercy  of  his  enemy ;  should  he  awake,  and  en- 
deavour to  seize  the  intruder,  he  grasps  but  a  naked  oiled  body,  which 
slips  from  his  hold  like  an  eel ;  but  if  he  unhappily  succeed  in  holding  him, 
then  the  dagger  of  the  assassin  is  plunged  in  his  heart,  and,  while  he  falls  a 
corpse  to  the  ground,  his  murderer  escapes  unobserved  and  undetected. 


238 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE  SMUGGLER. 

The  storm  of  the  morning  had  long  since  ceased. 

The  sun  was  declining,  some  hours  having  elapsed 
since  the  Strangler  had  introduced  himself  into  the  pa- 
vilion of  Djalma,  and  tattooed  him  with  the  mysterious 
sign  during  his  slumber. 

A  cavalier  was  advancing  rapidly  in  the  midst  of  a 
long  avenue  bordered  with  thickly  growing  trees. 

Sheltered  by  this  thick  vault  of  verdure,  a  thousand 
birds  hailed,  by  their  warblings  and  their  joyous  twitter- 
ings, this  glorious  evening  ;  green  and  red  parrots  climbed 
with  beak  and  claws  to  the  tops  of  the  rare  acacias ;  the 
maina-mainon,  a  large  bird  with  bright  blue  plumage  and 
with  thin,  long  necks  and  tails  of  burnished  gold,  pursued 
the  lories,  black  like  velvet,  shaded  with  orange  colour ; 
the  turtle-doves  of  Kolo,  of  a  rainbow  violet  colour,  cooed 
loudly  beside  the  birds  of  paradise,  whose  brilliant  feathers 
united  the  prismatic  tints  of  the  emerald,  ruby,  topaz,  and 
sapphire. 

This  avenue,  which  was  rising  ground,  terminated  with 
a  small  lake,  on  whose  surface,  here  and  there,  dipped  the 
green  shadows  of  the  tamarind  and  the  tatupa  trees,  whilst 
the  water,  calm  and  clear,  showed,  as  though  incrusted 
in  a  mass  of  dark  blue  crystal  (so  motionless  were  they), 
silver  fish,  with  fins  of  purple  and  gold ;  fish  with  fins  of 
scarlet,  all  immobile  on  the  top  of  the  lake,  on  which 
gleamed  a  dazzling  sunbeam,  which  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
light  and  warmth  that  were  diffused  amongst  them ;  a 

239 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


thousand  insects,  living  jewels  with  wings  of  fire,  glided, 
dived,  flew,  and  buzzed  in  this  transparent  mirror,  which 
reflected,  to  a  vast  depth,  the  variegated  shades  of  foli- 
age and  aquatic  plants  with  which  the  banks  were 
overgrown. 

It  is  impossible  to  depict  the  entire  or  part  of  this 
exuberance  of  nature,  so  luxuriant  with  colours,  per- 
fumes and  sunlight,  and  serving,  as  we  might  say,  for 
the  frame  to  the  picture  of  the  youthful  horseman  at  the 
end  of  the  avenue. 

It  was  Djalnia. 

He  had  not  yet  perceived  that  the  Strangler  had 
traced  on  his  left  arm  certain  ineffaceable  marks. 

His  Javanese  steed,  of  moderate  size,  was  full  of  fire 
and  vigour,  and  black  as  midnight.  A  piece  of  scarlet 
cloth  formed  the  saddle,  and,  to  restrain  the  impetuosity 
of  his  spirited  mare,  Djalma  made  use  of  a  light  bit  of 
steel,  whose  reins  of  scarlet-twisted  silk  were  light  as  a 
thread. 

None  of  those  horsemen  so  admirably  ensculptured 
on  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon  is  more  gracefully  and 
proudly  mounted  than  was  this  young  Indian,  whose 
fine  countenance,  lighted  up  by  the  rays  of  the  setting 
sun,  was  full  of  happiness  and  tranquillity. 

His  eye  sparkled  with  delight;  his  nostrils  were 
dilated ;  his  lips  half  opened,  as  he  inspired  with  free- 
dom the  perfumed  breeze  of  the  flowers  and  scented 
shrubs,  the  more  delicious  as  coming  after  the  heavy 
rain  which  had  succeeded  the  midday  storm. 

A  crimson  cap,  resembling  the  Greek  head-dress,  cov- 
ered the  black  hair  of  Djalma,  and  brought  out  the 
golden  hue  of  his  complexion.  His  neck  was  bare,  and 
he  was  clad  in  his  muslin  caftan,  with  wide  sleeves 
girdled  by  a  scarlet  band ;  his  drawers  were  full,  and  of 
white  tissue,  reaching  just  below  the  knees,  leaving  his 
rounded  and  polished  legs  half  naked,  whilst  their  grace- 
ful contour,  quite  d  V antique,  was  seen  pressed  against 

240 


THE  SMUGGLER. 


his  horse's  sides;  those  powerful  limbs  preserving  his 
seat,  as  he  had  no  stirrups ;  his  small  and  narrow  foot 
bearing  a  sandal  of  red  morocco  leather. 

The  variation  of  his  fancies,  by  turns  impetuous  and 
restrained,  were  exhibited  in  the  paces  which  his  horse 
displayed, — sometimes  bold  and  rapid,  as  if  his  imagi- 
nation had  thrown  away  its  reins,  and  then  calm 
and  deliberate,  as  though  reflection  had  succeeded  to 
impetuosity. 

In  this  wayward  course  his  every  movement  was 
replete  with  a  proud,  independent,  and  wild  grace. 

Djalma,  dispossessed  of  his  paternal  territory  by  the 
English,  and  at  first  imprisoned  after  his  father's  death, 
who  had  been  killed  in  battle  (as  M.  Joshua  Van  Dael 
wrote  from  Batavia  to  M.  Rodin),  had  been  subsequently 
set  at  liberty. 

Then,  leaving  continental  India,  accompanied  by  Gen- 
eral Simon,  who  had  not  quitted  the  environs  of  the 
prison  which  contained  the  son  of  his  old  friend,  the  king 
Kadja-Sing,  the  young  Indian  came  to  Batavia,  the  place 
of  his  mother's  birth,  to  obtain  possession  of  the  modest 
inheritance  of  his  maternal  ancestors. 

^  In  this  inheritance,  so  long  disdained  or  forgotten  by 
his  father,  were  found  many  important  papers,  and  the 
medal  resembling  that  worn  by  Rose  and  Blanche. 

General  Simon,  surprised  as  well  as  charmed  at  this 
discovery,  which  not  only  established  a  bond  of  relation- 
ship between  his  wife  and  the  mother  of  Djalma,  but 
seemed  to  hold  out  such  great  advantages  to  the  latter 
hereafter,  leaving  Djalma  at  Batavia  to  conclude  certain 
affairs  of  business,  had  gone  to  Sumatra,  a  neighbouring 
island,  where  he  hoped  to  find  a  ship  going  straight  and 
speedily  to  Europe  ;  for  it  was  necessary,  at  all  hazards, 
that  the  young  Indian  should  be  in  Paris  on  the  thir- 
teenth of  February,  1832.  If  he  should  find  such  a 
vessel,  he  was  to  return  instantly  to  find  Djalma,  who 
was  waiting  his  arrival  daily,  and  was  then  going  to  the 

241 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


pier  of  Batavia  in  the  hopes  of  seeing  the  father  of  Rose 
and  Blanche  arrive  by  the  packet  from  Sumatra. 

A  few  words  on  the  infancy  and  youth  of  the  son  of 
Kadja-Sing  are  necessary. 

Having  lost  his  mother  when  he  was  very  young,  he 
was  simply  and  rudely  brought  up,  and  as  a  child  had 
accompanied  his  father  to  the  great  tiger  hunts,  as  dan- 
gerous as  battles ;  and,  hardly  a  youth,  he  had  followed 
his  parent  to  the  wars  undertaken  in  defence  of  his 
territory,  fierce  and  bloody  as  those  wars  were. 

Having  thus  lived,  since  his  mother's  death,  in  the 
depths  of  forests  and  his  paternal  mountains,  where, 
in  the  midst  of  incessant  combat,  his  vigorous  and 
ingenuous  nature  had  preserved  itself  pure  and  in- 
tact, never  was  the  surname  of  Generous  more  fitly 
bestowed. 

Prince,  he  was  really  a  prince  —  a  rare  occurrence  ; 
and,  during  the  time  of  his  captivity,  he  had  won  the 
favour  of  his  English  gaolers  hy  his  calm  and  uncom- 
plaining dignity :  no  reproach,  no  lament,  escaped  his 
lips  ;  he  maintained  a  proud,  but  not  sullen  demeanour, 
and  never  changed  his  mood  until  the  moment  when  he 
was  set  free. 

Accustomed  until  then  to  a  patriarchal  existence,  or  a 
warrior  in  the  mountain  holds  of  his  native  land,  which 
he  had  left  only  to  pass  a  few  months  in  prison,  Djalma 
knew  actually  nothing  of  civilised  life. 

But,  without  positively  having  defects,  Djalma  pushed 
the  qualities  of  his  mind  to  extremes ;  of  an  inflexible 
obstinacy  as  to  his  pledged  word,  devoted  to  death  itself, 
blindly  confiding,  good  to  a  perfect  forgetfulness  of 
self,  he  was  inflexible  towards  any  one  who  would  prove 
himself  an  ingrate,  liar  or  a  traitor,  —  he  would  have 
displayed  summary  justice  towards  perjury  or  disloyalty, 
because,  had  he  himself  been  forsworn  or  treacherous, 
he  would  have  deemed  his  life  the  just  forfeit. 

He  was,  in  a  word,  a  man  whose  feelings  were  uncom- 

242 


THE  SMUGGLER. 


promising  and  in  full  integrity.  Such  an  one,  opposed 
to  the  arrangements,  calculations,  falsenesses,  deceits, 
tricks,  restrictions,  and  hypocrisy  of  very  refined  society, 
—  that  of  Paris,  for  instance,  —  would  have  been  a 
perfect  study  for  a  philosopher. 

We  advance  this  hypothesis,  because,  since  his  journey 
from  Java  to  France  had  been  decided  on,  Djalma  had 
but  one  fixed,  constant,  and  concentrated  thought,  —  to 
be  at  Paris. 

At  Paris,  that  fairy  city,  of  which,  even  in  Asia,  that 
fairy  land  was  discoursed  of  in  such  glowing  terms. 

What  especially  inflamed  the  young  and  heated  imag- 
ination of  the  young  Indian  was  the  French  women  — 
the  Parisiennes  —  so  lovely,  so  winning  —  such  mar- 
vels of  elegance,  grace,  and  fascination,  who  eclipsed  (as 
the  Asiatics  said)  the  magnificence  of  the  capital  of  the 
civilised  world. 

At  this  moment,  during  this  splendid  and  glowing 
evening,  surrounded  by  flowers  and  delicious  perfumes, 
Djalma  was  thinking  of  those  enchanting  creatures  whom 
his  fancy  clothed  in  his  own  brightest  hues. 

He  seemed  to  see  at  the  end  of  the  avenue,  in  the 
midst  of  the  sheet  of  golden  light,  which  the  trees 
encased  in  their  frame  of  tufted  verdure,  lovely  and 
entrancing  forms,  graceful  and  captivating  figures,  who 
smiled  upon  him,  and  sent  kisses  to  him  from  the  tops 
of  their  rosy  fingers ! 

No  longer  able  to  contain  himself,  and  carried  away 
by  the  heat  of  his  imagination  at  features  so  lovely, 
Djalma  uttered  a  deep  and  almost  savage  note  of  joy ; 
and,  at  the  same  moment,  his  beautiful  steed  bounded  in 
the  air,  as  though  participating  in  his  ecstacy. 

A  piercing  sun-ray  darted  at  this  moment  through  the 
sombre  vault  of  the  alley,  and  lighted  it  all  up. 

For  some  minutes  a  man  had  been  advancing  quickly 
along  a  path  which,  at  its  extremity,  cut  diagonally  the 
avenue  in  which  Djalma  was. 

243 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


The  man  stopped  for  a  moment  in  the  shade,  contem- 
plating Djalma  with  astonishment. 

It  was  indeed  charming  to  see,  in  the  midst  of  this 
radiant  glow  of  light,  a  young  man  so  handsome,  so  full 
of  fire,  so  joyous,  with  his  white  and  flowing  raiment,  so 
gracefully  seated  on  his  proud  black  steed,  who  covered 
with  foam  his  red  bridle,  and  whose  long  tail  and  thick 
mane  flowed  in  the  evening  wind. 

But,  by  a  contrast  which  follows  all  human  desires, 
Djalma  soon  felt  the  return  of  an  indefinable  and  sub- 
duing melancholy,  and,  lifting  his  hand  to  his  moist  and 
downcast  eyes,  let  fall  his  reins  on  the  neck  of  the  fine- 
tempered  animal  that  bore  him. 

The  horse  stopped  instantly,  stretched  out  his  swan- 
like neck,  and  turned  his  head  half  towards  the  individual 
whom  he  saw  in  the  path. 

This  man  was  called  Mahal  the  Smuggler,  and  he 
was  dressed  like  a  European  sailor,  with  a  jacket  and 
trousers  of  white  linen,  a  wide  red  girdle,  and  a  straw 
hat,  very  wide  in  the  brim ;  his  countenance  was  tanned 
and  strongly  marked,  but,  although  he  was  forty  years 
old,  he  was  entirely  beardless. 

"  What  seek  you  ?  "  said  the  Indian. 

"  You  are  the  son  of  Kadja-Sing  ?  " 

"  Again  I  say,  what  seek  you  ?  " 

"  The  friend  of  General  Simon." 

"  General  Simon  !  "  exclaimed  Djalma. 

"  You  were  going  to  meet  him,  as  you  do  every  even- 
ing since  you  expected  him  from  Sumatra  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  how  know  you  that  ? "  said  the  Indian, 
looking  at  the  smuggler  with  surprise  and  curiosity. 

"  He  ought  to  reach  JBatavia  to-day  or  to-morrow." 

"  Do  you  come  from  him  ?  " 

"Perchance  I  may,"  said  Mahal,  with  a  distrustful 
air.    "  But  are  you  really  the  son  of  Kadja-Sing  ?  " 

"  I  am,  I  tell  you.  But  when  did  you  see  General 
Simon?" 

244 


THE  SMUGGLER. 


"  If  you  are  the  son  of  Kadja-Sing,"  replied  Mahal, 
still  looking  at  Djalma  with  a  suspicious  eye,  "  what  is 
your  surname  ?  " 

"  They  called  my  father  <  The  Father  of  the  Gener- 
ous,' "  replied  the  young  Indian ;  and  a  shade  of  sadness 
stole  over  his  handsome  features. 

These  words  appeared  to  begin  to  convince  Mahal  of 
the  identity  of  Djalma ;  however,  as  he  was  anxious  to 
be  well  assured,  he  replied : 

"  You  should  have  received,  two  days  ago,  a  letter 
from  General  Simon,  written  from  Sumatra?" 

"  I  did  ;  but  why  those  questions  ?  " 

"  That  I  may  be  quite  certain  that  you  are  the  son  of 
Kadja-Sing,  and  then  I  will  execute  the  orders  I  have 
received." 

"  From  whom  ?  " 

"  From  General  Simon." 

"  But  where  is  he  ?  " 

«  When  I  am  certain  that  you  are  the  Prince  Djalma, 
1  will  tell  you.  I  was  informed  that  you  would  be 
mounted  on  a  black  horse  with  red  housings  ;  but  —  " 

"  By  my  mother's  shade  !    Will  you  speak  ?  " 

"  I  will  say  everything,  if  you  tell  me  what  printed 
paper  there  was  enclosed  in  the  last  letter  which  Gen- 
eral Simon  sent  you  from  Sumatra." 

"  It  was  an  extract  from  a  French  newspaper." 

"And  did  it  announce  good  or  bad  news  for  the 
general  ? " 

"  Good  news ;  for  it  stated  that,  during  his  absence, 
the  title  and  rank  which  the  emperor  had  last  conferred 
upon  him  had  been  recognised  and  confirmed,  and  that 
the  same  recognition  had  taken  place  with  respect  to  all 
his  brothers  m  arms  exiled  as  well  as  himself." 

"  Now  I  am  sure  you  are  the  Prince  Djalma,"  said 
the  smuggler,  after  a  moment's  reflection ;  "  and  I  will 
tell  you  all.  General  Simon  landed  last  night  at  Java, 
but  m  a  desert  spot  on  the  other  side." 

245 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  In  a  desert  spot  ?  " 

"  That  he  might  be  concealed." 

"  He,"  exclaimed  Djalma,  in  great  surprise,  "  conceal 
himself !    And  why  ?  " 
"  I  do  not  know." 

"  But  where  is  he  ? "  said  Djalma,  with  increased 
anxiety. 

"  Three  leagues  off,  on  the  seashore,  in  the  ruins  of 
Tchandi." 

"  He  forced  to  conceal  himself ! "  repeated  Djalma, 
whose  countenance  was  expressive  of  deep  alarm  and 
anxiety. 

"  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  think  he  was  engaged  in  some 
duel  in  Sumatra,"  said  the  smuggler,  with  an  air  of 
mystery. 

"  A  duel !    And  with  whom  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.    I  am  not  at  all  sure  about  it.  But 
you  know  the  ruins  of  Tchandi  ? " 
"  I  do." 

"  Well,  the  general  awaits  you  there,  and  desired  me 
to  bring  you  word." 

"  You  then  have  come  from  Sumatra  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  was  the  pilot  of  the  little  smuggling  coaster  from 
which  he  landed  last  night  on  the  lone  shore.  He  knew 
that  you  came  every  day  to  look  for  him  on  the  road  to 
the  Mole,  and  I  was  sure  to  meet  with  you.  He  gave 
me  the  particulars  about  the  last  letter  you  received 
from  him,  and  which  I  have  mentioned  to  you  that  you 
might  know  I  came  from  him  ;  if  he  could  have  written 
to  you,  he  would  have  done  so." 

"  And  he  did  not  say  why  he  was  obliged  to  conceal 
himself  ? " 

"  Not  a  word  to  me.  But,  from  something  that  fell, 
I  suspect,  as  I  told  you,  that  there  was  a  duel." 

Knowing  the  quick  temper  and  high  courage  of  Gen- 
eral Simon,  Djalma  thought  the  suspicions  of  the  smug- 
gler were  very  probable. 

246 


THE  SMUGGLER. 

After  a  moment's  silence  he  said  to  him  : 

"  Can  you  lead  my  horse  back  for  me  ?  My  house  is 
outside  the  city  —  down  there  —  hidden  by  the  trees, 
near  the  new  mosque.  My  horse  would  be  an  obstacle 
in  going  up  the  mountain  of  Tchandi.  I  would  reach  it 
quicker  on  foot." 

"  I  know  very  well  where  you  live,  for  General  Simon 
told  me,  and  I  should  have  gone  on  to  you  had  we  not 
met  here.    Give  me  your  horse." 

Djalma  leaped  lightly  down,  threw  the  bridle  to  Mahal, 
unrolled  one  end  of  his  girdle,  and,  taking  out  a  small 
silk  purse,  gave  it  to  the  smuggler,  saying : 

"You  are  faithful  and  obedient,  —  there,  it  is  not 
much,  but  I  have  no  more." 

"Kadja-Sing  was  well  named  'The  Father  of  the 
Generous,' "  said  the  smuggler,  bowing  respectfully  and 
gratefully  ;  and  he  took  the  route  which  led  to  Batavia, 
leading  Djalma's  courser  by  his  bridle. 

The  young  Indian  turned  down  the  path,  and,  walking 
with  great  speed,  bent  his  steps  towards  the  mountains 
where  the  ruins  of  Tchandi  were,  but  which  he  could 
not  reach  before  night. 


247 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


M.  JOSHUA  VAN  DAEL. 

M.  Joshua  Van  Dael,  a  Dutch  merchant,  corre- 
spondent of  M.  Rodin,  was  born  at  Batavia  (capital  of 
the  island  of  Java).  His  parents  had  sent  him  to  be 
educated  at  Pondicherry,  in  a  celebrated  religious  house 
long  established  in  that  city,  and  belonging  to  the  Society 
of  Jesus.  He  was  then  affiliated  to  the  community  as  a 
professed  of  three  vows,  or  lay  member,  commonly  styled 
temporal  coadjutor. 

M.  Joshua  was  a  man  whose  probity  was  considered 
perfect ;  he  was  extremely  exact  and  punctilious  in  all 
matters ;  cold,  discreet,  impenetrable,  and  of  singular 
skill  and  sagacity.  His  financial  operations  were  almost 
always  successful,  for  a  protecting  power  gave  him,  from 
time  to  time,  a  knowledge  of  events  which  had  the  con- 
trol of  vast  commercial  transactions.  The  religious  house 
of  Pondicherry  was  interested  in  his  business,  and  en- 
trusted to  him  the  exportation  and  exchange  of  the 
produce  of  many  extensive  estates  which  it  possessed 
in  this  colony. 

Speaking  seldom,  listening  always,  never  discussing, 
exceedingly  affable,  giving  little,  but  with  care  and  dis- 
cretion, M.  Joshua  inspired,  in  the  absence  of  sympathy, 
that  cold  respect  which  men  of  his  character  usually 
inspire.  Instead  of  yielding  to  the  influence  of  colonial 
manners,  so  often  libertine  and  dissolute,  he  appeared  to 
live  with  great  regularity,  and  his  exterior  presented  an 
austere  appearance,  which  imposed  on  the  world  at  large. 

248 


M.  JOSHUA  VAN  DAEL. 


The  following  scene  was  passing  in  Batavia  whilst 
Djalma  was  on  his  way  to  the  ruins  of  Tchandi,  in  the 
hope  of  meeting  General  Simon  there. 

M.  Joshua  had  just  entered  his  private  closet,  where 
were  rows  of  shelves  piled  with  memorandum-cases  and 
large  ledgers,  and  cash-books  open  on  the  desks. 

The  only  window  of  this  closet,  situated  on  the 
ground  floor,  looked  on  a  small  empty  courtyard,  and 
was  protected  from  without  by  thick  iron  bars,  whilst 
a  movable  blind  was  substituted  for  panes  of  glass,  in 
consequence  of  the  great  heat  of  the  climate  of  Java. ' 

Joshua^having  placed  on  his  desk  a  wax  light  enclosed 
m  a  glass  shade,  looked  at  the  clock. 

"  Half-past  nine  o'clock,"  said  he  ;  "  Mahal  will  soon 
be  here." 

So  saying,  he  went  Out,  crossed  an  antechamber,  and, 
opening  a  second  thick  door,  strengthened  with  large- 
headed  nails,  he  entered  the  little  courtyard  with  much 
precaution,  that  he  might  not  be  heard  by  the  people  of 
ms.  establishment,  and  then  drew  back  the  secret  bolt 
which  fastened  a  folding-door  with  a  large  bar  six  feet 
long,  and  defended  by  plates  of  iron. 

Leaving  this  open,  he  returned  to  his  cabinet,  after 
having  successively  and  carefully  closed  after  him  all  the 
other  doors. 

Joshua  then  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  and  took  from 
a  drawer  a  long  letter,  or  rather  memoir,  begun  some 
time  back,  and  written  day  by  day.  (It  is  unnecessary  to 
say  that  this  letter,  addressed  to  M.  Rodin,  at  Paris, 
in  the  Rue  du  Milieu-des-Ursins,  was  anterior  to  the 
liberation  of  Djalma  and  his  arrival  at  Batavia.) 

The  memoir  in  question  was  also  addressed  to 
M.  Rodin,  and  thus  did  M.  Joshua  continue  it : 

"  Fearing  the  return  of  General  Simon,  about  whom 
I  had  been  instructed  by  intercepting  his  letters  (I 
have  already  said  that  I  had  contrived  to  have  myself 
appointed  as  his  agent  and  correspondent),  —  letters 

249 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


which  I  read,  and  then  forwarded,  apparently  untouched, 
to  Djalma,  I  have  been  compelled  by  time  and  the  pres- 
sure of  circumstances  to  have  recourse  to  extreme  means, 
at  the  same  time  that  I  have  altogether  preserved  appear- 
ances, and  rendered  signal  service  to  humanity ;  this 
latter  reason  especially  decided  me. 

"  A  new  danger,  moreover,  imperiously  ruled  my 
conduct.  The  steamboat,  the  Huyter,  reached  here 
yesterday,  and  sails  to-morrow. 

"  This  vessel  goes  to  Europe  by  the  Arabian  Gulf ;  her 
passengers  disembark  at  the  Isthmus  of  Suez,  which  they 
cross,  and  at  Alexandria  they  take  another  vessel,  which 
conveys  them  to  France. 

"  This  journey,  as  rapid  as  it  is  direct,  only  occupies 
seven  or  eight  weeks  ;  this  is  the  end  of  October,  and 
Prince  Djalma  might,  therefore,  reach  France  about  the 
beginning  of  the  month  of  January ;  and  after  your 
instructions  (the  cause  of  which  I  am  ignorant  of,  but 
which  I  execute  with  zeal  and  submission)  it  was  requi- 
site, at  all  hazards,  to  prevent  his  departure,  as  you  told 
me  one  of  the  gravest  interests  of  our  society  would  be 
thereby  compromised  by  the  arrival  of  this  young  Indian 
at  Paris  before  the  thirteenth  of  February.  If  I  succeed,  as 
I  hope  and  believe,  in  making  him  miss  the  Huyter,  it  will 
be  absolutely  impossible  that  he  can  reach  France  before 
the  month  of  April,  for  the  Ruyter  is  the  only  vessel 
which  makes  this  quick  and  direct  route,  all  the  other 
ships  being  from  four  to  five  months  in  reaching  Europe. 

"  Before  I  tell  you  the  means  I  have  been  forced  to 
use  to  retain  Prince  Djalma  here,  —  means  of  which  at 
this  moment  I  do  not  know  the  result,  good  or  bad,  I 
should  tell  you  a  few  facts. 

"  There  has  been  discovered,  in  Anglo-India,  a  com- 
munity whose  members  call  themselves  6  Brothers  of 
the  Good  Work,'  or  Phansigars,  which  simply  means 
Stranglers  ;  these  murderers  do  not  shed  blood,  —  they 
strangle  their  victims,  less  to  rob  them  than  to  obey  a 

250 


M.  JOSHUA  VAN  DAEL. 


homicidal  vocation  and  the  laws  of  an  infernal  deity, 
called  by  them  Bohwanie. 

"  I  cannot  give  you  a  better  idea  of  this  horrible  sect 
than  by  transcribing  a  few  lines  of  the  introduction  to 
Colonel  Sleeman's  report,  who  has  tracked  and  followed 
up  this  murderous  confraternity  with  indefatigable  zeal. 
The  report  was  published  two  months  ago  ;  this  is  the 
extract,  and  the  colonel  himself  speaks : 

"'From  1822  to  1824,  when  I  was  charged  with  the 
magistracy  and  civil  administration  of  the  district  of 
Nersingpour,  there  was  not  a  murder,  or  the  smallest 
theft  by  a  common  bandit,  but  I  was  instantly  informed 
of  it.  And  if  any  one  had  come  and  told  me,  at  this 
time,  that  a  band  of  assassins,  by  profession  and  inheri- 
tance, lived  in  the  village  of  Kundelia,  about  four  miles 
at  most  from  my  court  of  justice  ;  that  the  lovely  groves 
of  the  village  of  Mundesoor,  a  day's  march  from  my  resi- 
dence, was  one  of  the  most  fearful  centres  of  assassina- 
tion in  all  India ;  that  vast  bands  of  "  the  Brothers  of 
the  Good  Work,"  coming  from  Indostan  and  the  Dekan, 
annually  met  in  these  thickets,  as  at  a  solemn  festival,  to 
carry  on  their  infernal  calling  on  every  road  and  by-path 
which  crossed  this  locality,  I  should  have  taken  my  in- 
formant for  a  madman,  who  had  been  alarmed  at  some 
silly  invention.  Yet  nothing  was  more  true,  for  travellers 
by  hundreds  were  every  year  interred  in  the  groves  of 
Mundesoor ;  a  whole  tribe  of  assassins  lived  at  my  very 
door  whilst  I  was  supreme  magistrate  of  the  province, 
and  extended  their  butcheries  to  the  cities  of  Poonah 
and  Hyderabad ! 

"  <  I  shall  never  forget  that,  to  convince  me,  one  of  the 
Strangler  chiefs,  who  had  denounced  his  associates,  ex- 
humed, from  the  very  spot  on  which  I  had  pitched  my 
tent,  thirteen  carcasses,  and  offered  to  dig  up  from  the 
soil  all  around  an  unlimited  number.' 1 

1  This  extract  is  from  the  excellent  work  of  M.  le  Comte  Edward  de  War- 
ren on  British  India,  in  1831. 

251 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  These  few  lines  from  Colonel  Sleeman's  report  will 
give  you  some  idea  of  this  terrible  society,  whose  laws, 
duties,  and  customs  are  wholly  at  variance  with  all  laws, 
human  and  divine.  Devoted  to  one  another,  even  to 
heroism,  blindly  subservient  to  their  chiefs,  who  style 
themselves  the  immediate  representatives  of  their  dark 
divinity,  considering  as  foes  all  who  are  not  united  with 
them,  adding  to  their  numbers  in  all  quarters  by  a  fear- 
ful system  of  proselytism,  these  apostles  of  a  religion  of 
murder  go  about  preaching  in  secrecy  their  abominable 
doctrines,  and  enclosing  India  in  a  vast  net. 

"Three  of  their  principal  chiefs  and  one  of  their 
adepts,  flying  from  the  hot  pursuit  of  the  English  gov- 
ernor, which  they  contrived  to  elude,  had  reached  the 
northern  point  of  India  at  the  Straits  of  Malacca,  which 
is  but  a  short  distance  from  Java.  A  smuggler  and 
pirate,  affiliated  with  them  and  named  Mahal,  took  them 
on  board  his  coasting  bark,  and  conveyed  them  hither, 
where,  for  some  time,  they  believed  themselves  in  safety ; 
for,  according  to  the  smuggler's  advice,  they  took  refuge 
in  a  thick  forest,  in  which  are  several  ruined  temples, 
whose  numerous  caverns  afford  them  a  shelter. 

"  Amongst  these  chiefs,  all  three  of  remarkable  intelli- 
gence, is  one  particularly,  Faringhea  by  name,  who  is  a 
man  of  extraordinary  energy,  and  of  qualities  so  superior 
as  to  make  him  a  man  to  be  feared.  He  is  a  metis,  that 
is,  the  son  of  a  white  father  and  Indian  mother.  He  has 
dwelt  long  in  cities  where  Europeans  have  conducted 
business,  and  speaks  English  and  French  very  well ;  the 
other  two  chiefs  are  a  negro  and  an  Indian ;  the  adept 
is  a  Malay. 

"  Mahal,  the  smuggler,  thinking  that  he  might  obtain 
a  good  reward  by  betraying  these  three  chiefs  and  their 
disciple,  came  to  me,  knowing,  as  all  the  world  knows, 
my  extreme  intimacy  with  a  person  who  is  most  influen- 
tial with  our  governor,  and  offered,  two  days  since,  on 
certain  conditions,  to  deliver  up  the  negro,  the  metis, 


M.  JOSHUA  VAN  DAEL. 


the  Indian,  and  the  Malay.  His  conditions  were  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money,  and  the  guarantee  of  a  passage 
on  board  some  ship  going  to  Europe  or  America,  in 
order  to  escape  from  the  implacable  vengeance  of  the 
Stranglers. 

"  I  instantly  seized  on  this  opportunity  of  delivering 
up  to  human  justice  these  three  murderers,  and  I  prom- 
ised Mahal  that  I  would  intercede  for  him  with  the  gov- 
ernor, on  certain  conditions  on  my  side,  very  innocent 
in  themselves,  but  concerning  Djalma.  I  will  tell  you 
my  project  at  length  if  it  be  successful,  which  I  shall 
soon  know,  as  I  expect  Mahal  here  almost  immediately. 

"  Waiting  until  I  close  my  despatches,  which  will  go 
to-morrow  for  Europe  by  the  Ruyter,  on  board  of  which 
I  shall  pay  for  Mahal's  passage,  if  he  is  successful,  I  will 
advert  to  another  subject  which  is  very  important. 

"  In  my  last  letter,  in  which  I  told  you  of  the  death  of 
Djalma' s  father,  and  the  young  man's  imprisonment  by 
the  English,  I  requested  information  as  to  the  solvency 
of  the  Baron  Tripeaud,  a  banker  and  manufacturer  at 
Paris,  who  has  a  branch  establishment  at  Calcutta.  Now 
this  information  is  no  longer  requisite  to  me  if  what  I 
learn  is  unfortunately  true,  and,  in  that  case,  you  will 
act  accordingly. 

"  His  house  at  Calcutta  owes  us,  i.  e.  to  me  and  our 
college  at  Pondicherry,  very  large  sums  of  money,  and  I 
am  informed  that  M.  Tripeaud's  affairs  are  in  a  most 
embarrassed  and  ruinous  condition.  Desirous  of  estab- 
lishing a  concern  which  should  ruin,  by  its  unrelenting 
rivalry,  an  immense  business,  long  since  commenced  by 
M.  Francois  Hardy,  a  most  extensive  manufacturer,  I 
learn  that  M.  Tripeaud  has  already  sunk  vast  capital  in 
his  undertaking,  and  lost  it  all.  He  has,  no  doubt,  done 
M.  Hardy  considerable  harm,  but,  at  the  same  time,  he 
has  greatly  injured  his  own  property,  and,  if  he  fails,  his 
disaster  will  be  greatly  detrimental  to  us,  as  he  owes  us 
and  our  clients  very  considerable  sums  of  money. 

253 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  In  this  state  of  things  it  would  be  very  desirable  that 
all  possible  means  in  our  power  should  be  employed  and 
directed  to  shake  and  injure  the  credit  of  the  house  of 
Francois  Hardy,  already  hurt  by  the  fierce  opposition  of 
M.  Tripeaud.  If  this  combination  could  be  made  to 
operate,  M.  Tripeaud  might,  in  a  short  time,  recover 
all  he  has  lost,  assure  the  ruin  of  his  rival,  which 
would  be  his  own  making,  and  our  debts  would  thus  be 
paid. 

«  No  doubt  it  would  be  most  painful  —  deeply  grievous, 
 to  be  compelled  to  resort  to  such  an  extremity  to  re- 
cover our  monies  ;  but,  in  these  days,  are  we  not  author- 
ised to  use  means  which  are  incessantly  employed  against 
us?  If  we  are  driven  to  this,  by  the  injustice  and 
wickedness  of  men,  we  must  resign  ourselves  to  the  dis- 
tressing task  by  the  reflection  that,  if  we  strive  to  recover 
and  preserve  our  earthly  possessions,  it  is  all  for  the 
greater  glory  of  God,  whilst,  in  the  hands  of  our  enemies, 
these  goods  are  but  dangerous  means  to  perdition  and 
scandal. 

"  This  is  but  a  proposal,  which  I  humbly  submit  to 
you ;  if  I  had  the  power  in  my  own  hands  of  taking  the 
initiative  on  the  subject  of  these  credits,  I  should  do 
nothing  of  myself  —  my  will  is  not  my  own ;  with  all  I 
possess  it  belongs  to  those  to  whom  I  have  sworn  a  blind 
obedience." 

A  slight  noise  without  interrupted  M.  Joshua  Van 
Dael,  and  attracted  his  attention. 

He  rose  quickly  and  went  to  the  window. 

Three  gentle  taps  were  struck  from  without  on  one  of 
the  blinds. 

"Is  it  you,  Mahal?"  inquired  Joshua,  in  a  subdued 
voice. 

"It  is,"  was  the  reply  from  without,  in  a  suppressed 
tone. 

«  And  the  Malay  ?  " 
"  Has  succeeded." 

254 


M.  JOSHUA  YAN  DAEL. 


"Keally?"  exclaimed  M.  Joshua,  in  a  tone  of  deep 
satisfaction.  "  Are  you  sure  ? " 

"  Quite  sure.  There  never  was  devil  more  skilful  and 
more  daring.' ' 

«  And  Djalma  ?  " 

"  The  passages  from  General  Simon's  last  letter,  which 
I  quoted  to  him,  convinced  him  that  I  came  from  the 
general,  and  that  he  would  find  him  at  the  ruins  of 
Tchandi." 

"  So,  then,  at  this  moment  —  " 

"  Djalma  is  at  the  ruins,  where  he  will  find  the  black, 
the  metis,  and  the  Indian,  They  appointed  the  spot  as 
a  rendezvous  for  the  Malay  after  he  had  tattooed  the 
prince  during  his  sleep." 

"Have  you  reconnoitred  the  subterranean  pas- 
sage  : 

"  I  went  yesterday.  One  of  the  stones  of  the  pedestal 
of  the  statue  turns  on  a  pivot ;  the  staircase  is  wide,  and 
will  do  very  well." 

"  And  the  three  chiefs  have  no  suspicion  of  you  ?" 

"  None.  I  saw  them  this  morning,  and  this  evening 
the  Malay  came  and  told  me  all  before  he  went  to  rejoin 
them  in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi ;  for  he  was  obliged  to 
remain  concealed  in  the  bushes,  not  daring  to  venture 
during  the  daylight." 

"  Mahal,  if  you  have  told  me  the  truth,  if  all  succeeds, 
your  pardon  and  a  handsome  reward  will  be  yours. 
Your  place  is  bespoke  on  board  the  Buyter ;  you  will 
go  to-morrow,  and  thus  be  out  of  reach  of  the  Stranglers' 
revenge,  who  would  else  pursue  you  to  death  to  avenge 
their  chiefs.  Since  Providence  has  selected  you  to 
deliver  these  three  great  criminals  to  justice,  God  will 
bless  you.  Go  now  and  await  me  at  the  governor's 
gate  ;  I  will  introduce  you  to  his  excellency,  for  such  im- 
portant matters  are  now  concerned  that  I  shall  not  hesi- 
tate to  go  and  awaken  him,  although  it  is  midnight.  Go 
quickly,  and  I  will  follow." 

255 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


There  were  then  heard  the  rapid  steps  of  Mahal,  as  he 
precipitately  departed,  and  all  was  silent. 

Joshua  returned  to  his  desk,  and  added  these  words 
hastily  to  his  long  memoir  : 

"  Whatever  happens,  it  is  now  impossible  that  Djalma 
can  "quit  Batavia.  Be  assured  that  he  will  not  be  in 
Paris  on  the  thirteenth  of  February  next  year. 

"  As  I  foresaw,  I  shall  be  on  foot  all  night.  I  am  now 
going  to  the  governor.  To-morrow  I  will  add  a  few 
words  to  this  long  memoir,  which  the  steamboat,  the 
Ruyter,  will  convey  to  Europe." 

After  having  closed  his  secretaire,  Joshua  rang  his  bell 
loudly,  and,  to  the  great  surprise  of  his  establishment  at 
seeing  him  go  out  so  late  at  night,  went  away  with  a 
rapid  pace  to  the  governor  of  the  island. 

We  now  conduct  our  reader  to  the  ruins  of  Tchandi. 


256 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


THE  RUINS  OF  TCHANDI. 


The  storm  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  that  storm 
whose  influences  had  so  well  served  the  design  of  the 
Strangleron  Djalma,was  succeeded  by  a  calm  and  serene 
night. 

The  moon's  disc  rose  softly  behind  a  mass  of  striking 
ruins,  situated  on  a  hill,  in  the  midst  of  a  thick  wood 
three  leagues  from  Batavia. 

Large  rows  of  stones,  high  brick  walls  mutilated  by 
the  tooth  of  time,  vast  porticoes  covered  with  parasitical 
vegetation,  were  seen  in  the  clear  horizon,  in  the  silvery 
light  which  was  shed  copiously  from  the  blue  vault  of 
heaven. 

i  Several  rays  of  moonshine,  stealing  through  the  open- 
mg  of  one  of  the  porticoes,  fell  on  two  colossal  statues 
placed  at  the  foot  of  an  immense  staircase,  whose  dis- 
joined flag-stones  were  almost  entirely  concealed  be- 
neath the  rank  grass,  moss,  and  underwood. 

The  remains  of  one  of  these  statues,  broken  in  the 
middle  were  scattered  on  the  ground ;  the  other,  which 
was  still  upright,  was  frightful  to  look  at. 

It  represented  a  man  of  gigantic  proportions,  with  a 
head  three  feet  in  height,  the  expression  of  whose  coun- 
tenance was  ferocious  in  the  extreme,  and  two  eyes  of 
black  and  shining  schist  were  inlaid  in  its  stone-oray 
face  ;  the  mouth,  large,  wide,  and  opened  to  its  utmost 
stretch,  had  become  the  nest  of  reptiles,  a  swarm  of 

257 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


whom  might  be  seen  crawling  in  and  out  of  the  lips 
most  disgustingly. 

A  wide  girdle,  ornamented  with  symbols,  encircled 
the  waist  of  this  statue,  and  supported  the  long  sword 
which  hung  by  its  side.  The  giant  had  four  extended 
arms,  and  in  his  four  massive  outspread  hands  he  sup- 
ported an  elephant's  head,  a  coiled  snake,  a  human 
skull,  and  a  bird  resembling  a  heron. 

The  moon,  which  lighted  this  statue  on  one  side, 
spread  a  full  light  over  the  profile,  which  added  to  the 
singular  fierceness  of  the  countenance. 

Here  and  there,  inserted  in  the  midst  of  the  brick 
walls,  half  destroyed,  were  fragments  of  bas-relief,  also 
a  stone  very  boldly  carved;  one  of  these,  in  the  best 
state  of  preservation,  represented  a  man  with  an  ele- 
phant's head,  with  wings  like  a  bat,  and  devouring  a 
child. 

Nothing  could  be  more  repulsive  than  these  ruins,  en- 
compassed by  thickets  of  trees  of  a  dark  green,  covered 
with  mystic  emblems,  and  seen  by  the  moon's  pale  light 
in  the  profound  silence  of  night. 

In  the  angle  of  one  of  the  walls  of  this  ancient 
temple,  dedicated  to  some  mysterious  and  bloody  Java- 
nese deity,  was  erected  a  hut,  clumsily  constructed  of 
fragments  of  brick  and  stone  ;  the  door,  made  of  the 
bulrush  stalks,  was  open,  and  there  issued  from  it  a  red- 
dish light,  which  cast  its  warm  glare  on  the  tall  weeds 
with  which  the  earth  was  covered. 

Three  men  were  in  this  hovel,  lighted  by  a  clay  lamp, 
in  which  burnt  a  wick  made  of  the  cocoa-tree  fibre  and 
fed  with  palm-oil. 

One  of  these  individuals,  a  man  about  forty  years  of 
age,  was  dressed  in  shabby  European  attire,  his  pale 
and  almost  white  complexion  proving  that  he  was  of 
mulatto  race  ;  that  is,  the  child  of  a  white  man  and  an 
Indian  mother. 

The  second  was  a  robust  African  negro,  with  blubber- 

258 





THE  RUINS  OF  TCHANDI. 


lips,  muscular  shoulders,  and  spindle  legs ;  his  frizzly 
hair  was  becoming  gray,  and,  covered  with  tatters,  he 
was  standing  upright  near  the  Indian. 

A  third  person  was  asleep  on  a  mat  in  the  corner  of 
this  lair. 

These  three  men  were  the  three  chiefs  of  the  Stran- 
gles who,  pursued  in  continental  India,  had  sought  refuge 
in  Java  under  the  guidance  of  the  smuggler  Mahal. 

"  The  Malay  does  not  return,"  said  the  mulatto,  whose 
name  was  Faringhea,  the  most  redoubtable  of  this  homi- 
cidal sect ;  "  he  may  have  been  slain  by  Djalma  in 
executing  our  orders." 

"  The  morning's  storm  has  brought  the  reptiles  out  of 
their  holes  in  swarms,"  said  the  negro ;  "  perhaps  the 
Malay  has  been  bitten,  and  his  carcass  may  now  be  only 
a  serpent's  nest." 

"  To  advance  the  good  work,"  said  Faringhea,  with  a 
sombre  air,  "  death  in  all  shapes  must  be  braved." 

"  And  inflicted,"  added  the  negro. 

A  stifled  cry,  followed  by  several  inarticulate  words, 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  two  chiefs,  who  turned 
quickly  towards  the  sleeping  man. 

He  was  about  thirty  years  of  age,  and  his  beardless 
chin  and  copper-coloured  skin,  his  dress  of  coarse  stuff, 
his  small,  variegated  turban  of  yellow  and  brown,  evinced 
that  he  belonged  to  the  pure  Hindoo  race.  His  sleep 
was  agitated  by  some  painful  dream,  abundant  perspira- 
tion covered  his  features,  contracted  by  terror,  —  he 
uttered  words,  and  his  voice  was  stifled  and  moaning, 
whilst  his  frame  shook  with  convulsive  agitation. 

"  Always  this  dream,"  said  Faringhea  to  the  negro ; 
"  always  the  remembrance  of  that  man  !  " 

«  What  man  ? " 

"Don't  you  recollect,  five  years  ago,  that  savage, 
Colonel  Kennedy,  —  the  Indians'  executioner,  —  who 
came  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges  to  hunt  the  tiger,  with 
twenty  horses,  four  elephants,  and  fifty  attendants  ? " 

259 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  negro ;  "  and  we  three,  men- 
hunters,  we  had  better  sport  than  he  had.  Kennedy,, 
with  his  horses,  elephants,  and  large  train,  did  not  catch 
his  tiger ;  but  we,  we  had  ours,"  he  added,  with  fierce 
irony.  "  Yes,  Kennedy,  that  tiger  with  a  human  face, 
fell  into  our  ambush,  and  the  <  Brothers  of  the  Good 
Work  '  offered  up  their  glorious  prize  to  their  goddess 
Bohwanie." 

"  If  you  remember,  it  was  at  the  moment  when  we 
had  encircled  Kennedy's  neck  with  the  last  twist  of  our 
cord,  that  we  suddenly  saw  this  traveller  —  he  had  be- 
held us,  and  we  were  compelled  to  make  away  with  him. 
Since  that,"  added  Faringhea,  "  the  recollection  of  the 
murder  of  that  man  follows  him  "  —  pointing  to  the  sleep- 
ing Hindoo  —  "  even  in  his  dreams." 

"  As  well  as  when  he  is  awake,"  said  the  negro,  look- 
ing significantly  at  Faringhea. 

"  Hark  !  "  said  the  latter,  looking  towards  the  Indian, 
who,  in  the  agitation  of  his  dream,  began  speaking  again 
in  muttering  and  broken  tones.  "  Hark !  He  is  repeating 
the  replies  of  that  traveller  when  we  told  him  he  must 
die,  or  join  us  in  the  good  work.  His  mind  was  un- 
settled by  it  —  decidedly  affected  !  " 

At  this  moment  he  uttered  in  his  sleep  a  sort  of  mys- 
terious interrogatory,  in  which,  by  turns,  he  gave  the 
questions  and  replies. 

"  Traveller,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  broken  by  occasional 
abrupt  pauses,  "  why  hast  thou  that  black  circle  on  thy 
brow  ?  It  extends  from  one  temple  to  the  other  —  it  is 
a  fatal  brand ;  thy  look  is  as  sad  as  death  itself.  Hast 
thou  been  a  victim?  Come  with  us  —  Bohwanie 
avenges  the  injured.  Thou  hast  suffered  ?  —  Yes,  suf- 
fered deeply  !  For  a  long  time  ?  — Yes,  for  a  very  long 
time  !  Thou  still  sufferest  ?  —  For  ever  !  What  wouldst 
thou  bestow  on  him  who  hath  so  done  to  thee  ?  —  Pity ! 
Wilt  thou  return  blow  for  blow  ?  —  I  would  return  love 
for  hatred!    Who  art  thou,  then,  that  wouldst  return 

260 


THE  RUINS  OF  TCHANDL 


good  for  evil  ?  —  I  am  he  who  loves,  suffers,  and  for- 
gives." 

"  Dost  hear  him,  brother  ? "  said  the  negro  to  Farin- 
ghea ;  "  he  has  not  forgotten  the  words  of  the  traveller 
before  his  death." 

"  The  vision  follows  him  still.  Listen  —  he  speaks 
again.    How  ghastly  he  looks  !  " 

The  Indian,  still  under  the  influence  of  his  dream, 
continued  thus : 

"  Traveller,  there  are  three  of  us ;  we  are  fearless,  and 
have  death  in  our  hands  ;  thou  hast  seen  us  already  make 
a  sacrifice  to  the  good  work  ;  join  us  or  die  —  die  —  die  ! 
—  Oh,  what  a  look  !  —  Not  so  —  do  not  look  at  me  so  —  " 

As  he  uttered  these  words  the  Hindoo  made  a  sudden 
motion,  as  if  to  drive  away  an  object  that  approached 
him,  and  awoke  with  a  start. 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  which  was 
reeking  with  perspiration,  and  looked  wildly  around  him. 

"  Brother,  always  this  dream ! "  said  Faringhea  to 
him ;  "  for  a  hardy  hunter  of  men,  thy  head  is  weak. 
Fortunately  thine  heart  and  thine  arm  are  strong." 

The  Indian  did  not  reply  for  some  moments,  but  hid 
his  face  in  his  hands. 

After  a  pause  he  said  :  "  For  a  long  while  I  have  not 
dreamed  of  this  traveller." 

"Is  he  not  dead?"  said  Faringhea,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  "  Didst  not  thou  thyself  cast  the  cord  around 
his  neck  ? " 

"  I  did !  "  said  the  Indian,  shuddering. 

"  Did  we  not  dig  his  grave  close  to  that  of  Colonel 
Kennedy  ?  Did  we  not  bury  him  as  we  did  the  English 
butcher,  under  the  sand  and  bulrushes  ? "  asked  the 
negro. 

<<Yes,  we  dug  his  grave,"  said  the  Indian,  deeply 
agitated  ;  "  and  yet  it  is  now  a  year  ago  that  I  was  at 
Bombay,  when,  one  evening,  as  I  was  awaiting  one  of 
our  brethren,  at  sundown,  near  the  pagoda  which  is  at 

261 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


the  side  of  the  little  hill,  —  whilst  I  was  looking  at  the 
view  before  me,  seated  under  a  fig-tree,  I  heard  a  gentle, 
slow,  and  firm  footstep;  I  turned  my  head  —  'twas  he, 
leaving  the  city." 

"  A  dream  !  "  said  the  negro.  "  Nothing  but  a  dream  !  " 

"  Yes,  a  vision,"  added  Faringhea ;  "  or  some  singular 
resemblance." 

"  I  knew  him  at  once  by  the  black  half-circle  which 
shrouds  his  brow  —  'twas  he !  'twas  he !  I  remained 
motionless  with  fear,  my  eyes  starting  out  of  my  head. 
He  stopped,  and  cast  on  me  his  mild  and  melancholy 
glance  ;  in  spite  of  myself  I  exclaimed,  'tis  he  ! " 

" '  It  is  I,'  he  replied,  with  his  gentle  voice ;  6  and  all 
those  you  have  slain  will  rise  again  as  I  have  done.' 
Then  he  pointed  towards  the  sky,  and  continued,  6  Why 
slay  ?  Hearken !  I  came  from  Java ;  I  am  going  to 
the  other  end  of  the  globe,  to  a  country  of  eternal 
snows ;  there  or  here,  whether  on  a  flaming  soil  or  an 
icy  land,  yet  I  shall  be  for  eternity.  Thus  will  it  be 
with  the  souls  of  all  who  fall  under  thy  deadly  cord, 
either  in  this  world  or  the  other ;  in  this  earthly  form, 
or  in  some  other,  the  soul  will  always  be  a  soul,  —  thou 
canst  not  extinguish  that.  Then,  wherefore  slay  ? '  And 
then,  shaking  his  head  sorrowfully,  he  went  on  his  way, 
always  walking  slowly,  with  his  forehead  bowed.  He 
ascended  the  hill  of  the  pagoda,  and  I  followed  him 
with  my  eyes  without  stirring  from  the  spot.  As  the 
sun  set,  he  paused  on  the  summit,  his  tall  figure  was 
marked  against  the  sky,  and  then  he  disappeared.  Oh, 
'twas  he ! "  said  the  Indian,  trembling  violently  as  he 
spoke ;  and  then  again,  after  a  long  pause, "  Yes, 'twas  he !  " 

This  recital  of  the  Indian  had  never  varied,  and  he 
had  frequently  narrated  this  mysterious  adventure  to 
his  comrades.  This  pertinacity  on  his  part  shook  their 
incredulity,  or  rather  made  them  endeavour  to  find  some 
natural  solution  for  an  event  which  appeared  supernatural. 

"  Perhaps,"  said   Faringhea,  after  some  reflection, 

262 


THE  RUINS  OF  TCHANDI. 


"  the  knot  which  choked  the  traveller  was  not  so  tight 
as  actually  to  cause  death,  and  a  breath  of  life  might 
remain  in  him  ;  the  air  may  have  penetrated  the  rushes 
with  which  we  covered  his  grave,  and  so  he  returned 
to  life." 

"  No,  no !  "  said  the  Indian,  shaking  his  head ;  "  this 
man  was  not  of  our  race  —  " 
"  What  mean  you  ?  " 
"  Now  I  am  sure —  " 
«  Sure  of  what  ? " 

"  Listen !  "  said  the  Hindoo,  in  a  solemn  voice.  "  The 
number  of  victims  that  the  children  of  Bohwanie  have 
sacrificed  since  the  beginning  of  ages  is  nothing  to  the 
immensity  of  dead  and  dying  that  this  terrible  traveller 
leaves  behind  him  in  his  march  of  destruction." 

"  He  ! "  exclaimed  the  negro  and  Faringhea. 

"  He !  "  replied  the  Indian,  with  an  accent  of  convic- 
tion which  struck  home  to  his  companions.  "  Hearken 
and  tremble  !  When  I  met  this  traveller  at  the  gates 
of  Bombay,  he  had  come  from  Java,  and  was  going 
towards  the  north,  as  he  said.  The  next  day  Bombay 
was  ravaged  by  the  cholera ;  and,  some  time  afterwards, 
we  learnt  that  this  scourge  had  burst  forth  here  at  Java." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  negro. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  resumed  the  Hindoo.  "  4 1  am  going 
towards  the  north  —  to  a  country  of  eternal  snow,'  said 
the  traveller  to  me ;  and  has  not  the  cholera  also  gone 
northward,  passing  Mascata,  Ispahan,  Tauris,  Teflis,  and 
reached  Siberia  ? " 

"  True,"  replied  Faringhea,  thoughtfully. 

"  And  the  cholera,"  resumed  the  Indian,  "  only  pro- 
ceeded at  the  extent  of  five  or  six  leagues  a  day,  —  a 
man's  journey.  It  never  appeared  in  two  places  at 
once,  but  progressed  slowly,  equally,  always  at  the  pace 
of  a  man's  daily  travel." 

At  this  singular  comparison,  the  two  comrades  of  the 
Hindoo  looked  at  each  other  in  great  amaze. 

263 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


After  some  minutes'  silence,  the  affrighted  negro  said 
to  the  Indian : 

"  And  you  believe  that  this  man  —  " 

"  I  believe  that  this  man,  whom  we  killed,  restored 
to  life  by  some  infernal  divinity,  has  been  empowered  to 
spread  this  terrible  scourge  over  the  earth,  and  to  spread 
death  wheresoever  he  may  wander,  though  he  himself 
cannot  be  affected  by  it.  Remember,"  added  the  Indian, 
with  gloomy  emphasis,  "  remember,  this  terrible  traveller 
has  passed  by  Java  —  the  cholera  has  devastated  Java ; 
this  traveller  has  passed  by  Bombay  —  the  cholera  has 
devastated  Bombay ;  this  traveller  has  gone  northward 
■ —  the  cholera  has  devastated  the  north  —  " 

And  the  Indian,  pausing,  fell  into  a  deep  reverie. 

The  negro  and  Faringhea  were  overcome  by  deep 
astonishment.  The  Indian  was  right  as  to  the  mys- 
terious progress  (wholly  inexplicable)  of  this  fearful 
scourge,  which,  as  we  know,  did  not  spread  more  than 
five  or  six  leagues  a  day,  and  never  appeared  simultane- 
ously in  two  places  at  once. 

Nothing  can  be  more  striking  than  to  follow,  on  a 
map  marked  for  that  purpose,  and  correctly,  the  steady 
advance  of  this  progressive  scourge,  which  presents  to 
the  astonished  eye  all  the  caprices,  and  all  the  incidents, 
of  the  march  of  a  wayward  traveller. 

Going  here  in  preference  to  there ;  choosing  certain 
districts  in  a  country  and  certain  cities  in  those  districts, 
certain  quarters  in  those  cities,  certain  streets  in  those 
quarters,  certain  houses  in  those  streets;  having  even 
its  places  of  rest  and  cessation,  and  then  resuming  its 
gradual,  mysterious,  and  terrible  progress. 

The  words  of  the  Indian  which  described  these  fearful 
wantonings  made,  necessarily,  a  deep  impression  on  the 
negro  and  Faringhea,  fierce  as  were  their  dispositions, 
and  directed  by  revolting  doctrines  to  the  monomania  of 
murder. 

It  is  an  undenied  and  undeniable  fact  that  there  are 

264 


THE  RUINS  OF  TCHANDI. 


in  India  sects  of  this  abominable  community,  creatures 
who,  almost  always,  commit  their  murders  without 
motive  or  excitement,  —  who  kill  for  murder's  sake  — 
for  the  pleasure  of  slaying  —  for  the  sake  of  substituting 
death  for  life  —  to  make  a  live  being  a  dead  corpse,  — 
as  they  have  declared  in  answer  to  questions  put  to  them. 

Thought  is  lost  in  the  attempt  to  penetrate  to  the 
cause  of  such  monstrous  phenomena.  By  what  incred- 
ible series  of  events  have  men  become  vowed  to  such  a 
priesthood  of  Death  ? 

Doubtless,  such  a  religion  cannot  flourish  but  in  coun- 
tries devoted,  like  India,  to  the  most  atrocious  system  of 
slavery  —  to  the  most  pitiless  experiments  of  man  on  his 
fellow  man. 

Such  a  religion  must  be  the  outbreak  of  the  hatred  of 
humanity  exasperated,  beyond  endurance,  by  the  oppres- 
sion of  selfish  power.  Perhaps,  too,  this  homicidal  sect, 
whose  origin  is  lost  in  the  night  of  ages,  is  perpetuated 
in  these  regions  as  the  only  possible  protest  of  slavery 
against  despotism.  Perhaps,  indeed,  the  Almighty,  in 
his  impenetrable  designs,  has  created  the  Phansigars  as 
he  has  created  tigers  and  serpents. 

It  is  very  remarkable,  in  this  repulsive  community, 
that  a  mysterious  link  unites  all  the  members  together, 
and  isolates  them  from  their  fellow  men ;  for  they  have 
laws  of  their  own,  customs  of  their  own;  they  devote 
themselves  to  each  other,  sustain  and  aid  each  other,  but 
they  have  neither  country  nor  family,  —  they  spring, 
then,  themselves,  only  in  conformity  to  a  dark  and  mys- 
terious power,  whose  behests  they  blindly  obey,  and  in 
whose  name  they  wander  abroad  and  "make  corpses/' 
to  use  one  of  their  own  ferocious  expressions.1 

1  We  append  some  extracts  from  the  very  curious  book  of  M.  le  Comte  de 
Warren  on  British  India  in  1831 : 

"  Besides  the  robbers  who  kill  for  the  sake  of  the  bootv  which  they  trust  to 
find  on  travellers,  there  is  a  class  of  assassins,  organized  into  a  society,  with 
chiefs,  a  service,  a  free-masonry,  and  even  a  religion,  which  has  its  fanaticism 
and  its  devotion,  its  agents,  its  emissaries,  its  assistants,  its  moving  bodies, 
its  passive  comrades,  who  contribute  by  their  subscriptions  to  <  the  good 
work.'    It  is  the  community  of  Thugs,  Phansigars  (cheats  or  stranglers, 

265 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


For  some  moments  the  three  Stranglers  preserved  a 
profound  silence. 

Outside  the  hovel  the  moon  was  shedding  her  large 
and  silvered  rays  and  vast  blue  shadows  on  the  striking 
mass  of  ruins.  The  stars  shone  brilliantly,  and,  from 
time  to  time,  the  fitful  breeze  shook  the  clustering  and 
bright  leaves  of  the  bananas  and  palm-trees. 

The  pedestal  of  the  gigantic  statue,  which  was  pre- 
served entire,  and  was  at  the  left  of  the  portico,  rested 

from  Thvgna,  to  cheat,  and  phasna,  to  strangle),  a  religious  and  working 
confraternity,  who  war  against  the  human  race  by  exterminating  them,  and 
whose  origin  is  lost  in  the  night  of  ages. 

"  Up  to  1810  their  existence  was  not  only  unknown  to  their  European  con- 
querors, but  even  to  their  native  governments.  Between  the  vears  1816 
and  1830  many  hands  were  taken  in  the  fact  and  punished,  but  up  to  the  lat- 
ter period  all  the  revelations  made  on  this  subject  by  officers  of  high  experi- 
ence seemed  too  monstrous  to  obtain  public  attention  and  belief,  and  had 
been  refused  credence,  as  the  dreams  of  a  wild  imagination.  Yet  for  very 
many  years,  at  least  for  half  a  century,  this  social  plague-spot  had  consumed 
immense  populations,  from  the  foot  of  the  Himalaya  to  Cape  Comorin,  from 
Cutch  to  Assam. 

"  It  was  in  the  year  1830  that  the  confessions  of  a  celebrated  chief,  whose 
life  was  spared  on  condition  that  he  should  denounce  his  accomplices,  un- 
folded the  whole  system.  The  foundation  of  the  Thuggee  confraternity  is  a 
religious  belief,  the  worship  of  Bohwanie,  a  dark  divinitv,  who  loves  nothing 
but  carnage,  and  hates  especially  the  human  race.  Her  most  acceptable  sac- 
rifices are  human  victims,  and  the  more  of  these  are  offered  up  in  this  world, 
the  more  will  you  be  recompensed  in  the  next  by  joys  of  the  soul  and  the 
senses,  and  by  females,  always  young,  fresh,  and  lovely.  H  the  assassin 
should  meet  with  the  scaffold  in  his  career,  he  dies  with  enthusiasm,  —  a 
martyr  whom  a  palm  awaits.  To  obey  his  divine  mistress,  he  murders,  with- 
out anger  and  without  remorse,  the  old  man,  the  woman,  and  the  child.  To 
his  colleagues  he  must  be  charitable,  humane,  generous,  devoted,  sharing 
all  in  common,  because  they,  as  well  as  he,  are  ministers  and  adopted  children 
of  Bohwanie. 

"  The  destruction  of  fellow  creatures  who  do  not  belong  to  the  same  com- 
munity, and  the  diminution  of  the  human  species,  is  the  object  they  pursue. 
It  is  not  a  road  to  fortune,  for  the  booty  is  but  a  secondary  consideration, —  a 
corollary  very  agreeable,  no  doubt,  but  only  secondary  in  estimation.  De- 
struction is  the  great  aim  and  end,  —  the  heavenly  mission,  the  absorbing 
vocation.  It  is  a  delicious  gratification;  the  hunting  down  of  men  is  the 
most  intoxicating  sport  in  the  world.  '  You  find  great  pleasure,'  was  said  by 
one  of  these  criminals,  '  in  pursuing  the  wild  beast  to  its  lair,  in  attacking 
the  wild  boar  and  tiger,  because  there  are  dangers  to  face,  energy  and  cour- 
age to  display.  Only  think,  then,  how  that  fascination  must  be'  redoubled 
when  the  struggle  is  with  men,  when  it  is  men  whom  you  destroy !  Instead  of 
the  exercise  of  only  one  faculty,  courage,  you  have  at  once  to  evince  courage, 
cunning,  foresight,  eloquence',  diplomacy.  How  many  springs  to  move:  — 
How  many  strings  to  touch !  To  play  with  all  the  passions,  to  cause  vibration 
on  the  chords  of  love  and  friendship  to  lead  your  prey  into  your  nets ;  it  is  a 
glorious  chase,  it  is  sublime  —  enrapturing,  I  say!' 

"Whoever  was  in  India,  in  the  years  1831  and  1832,  will  remember  the 
stupor  and  affright  caused  by  the  discovery  of  this  vast  infernal  machinery 
spread  thoughout  society.  A  great  number  of  magistrates  of  the  provinces 
refused  to  believe  it,  and'could  not  comprehend  how  a  system  so  vast  had  for 
so  long  a  time  absorbed  the  social  body  under  their  eves',  silentlv  and  without 
betraying  itself."  —  British  India  in  i831,  bv  M.  Edward  de  Warren,  2  vols. 
8  vo.  Paris,  184i. 


266 


THE  RUINS  OF  TCHANDI. 


on  large  slabs,  half  concealed  under  thick  and  rank 
weeds. 

Suddenly  one  of  these  slabs  appeared  to  give  way. 

From  the  opening,  which  was  effected  noiselessly,  a 
man,  clothed  in  uniform,  looked  out  and  carefully  recon- 
noitred about  him,  listening  with  much  attention. 

Seeing  the  light  of  the  lamp  which  lighted  up  the  in- 
terior of  the  hut  glimmer  in  the  tall  herbage,  he  withdrew, 
made  a  signal,  and  then  he  and  two  other  soldiers 
climbed,  with  the  greatest  precaution  and  silence,  up  the 
lower  steps  of  this  subterranean  staircase,  and  moved 
stealthily  across  the  ruins. 

For  some  moments  their  moving  shadows  were  thrown 
on  the  ground  by  the  moonbeams,  and  then  they  disap- 
peared behind  several  pieces  of  the  fallen  walls. 

At  the  moment  when  the  thick  slab  resumed  its  place 
and  level,  heads  of  several  other  soldiers  were  visible  in 
the  concealment  of  this  excavation. 

The  mulatto,  the  Indian,  and  the  negro,  plunged  still 
in  deep  thought,  saw  nothing  of  this. 


267 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THE  AMBUSCADE. 

The  mulatto  Faringhea,  no  doubt  desirous  of  diverting 
the  painful  thoughts  which  the  language  of  the  Indian  on 
the  mysterious  progress  of  the  cholera  had  excited,  sud- 
denly changed  the  conversation.  His  eye  shone  with  a 
wild  glare,  and  his  countenance  assumed  a  look  of  fierce 
enthusiasm,  as  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Bohwanie  will  always  watch  over  us,  fearless  hun- 
ters of  men.  Courage,  brothers,  courage !  The  world 
is  wide  and  our  prey  is  everywhere.  The  English  force 
us  to  leave  India — we,  the  three  chiefs  of  the  good 
work  !  What  matters  that  ?  We  leave  behind  us  breth- 
ren, as  well  concealed,  as  numerous,  as  terrible,  as  the 
black  scorpions,  which  only  betray  their  presence  by  their 
deadly  bite  !  Exile  but  widens  our  range,  our  domains  ! 
Brother,  to  thee  is  America ! "  said  the  chief  to  the 
Hindoo,  with  an  air  of  inspiration.  "  Brother,  to  thee 
is  Africa ! "  he  said  to  the  negro.  "  Brothers,  to  me  is 
Europe  !  Wherever  there  are  men,  there  are  executioners 
and  victims ;  wherever  there  are  victims  there  are  hearts 
filled  with  hatred.  Be  it  our  task  to  influence  those 
hatreds  with  all  the  fiercest  longings  after  vengeance  !  It 
is  reserved  for  us,  by  dint  of  stratagems  and  seductions, 
to  draw  around  us,  servants  of  Bohwanie,  all  whose  zeal, 
courage,  and  boldness  can  be  useful  to  us.  Amongst 
ourselves,  and  for  ourselves,  let  us  rival  each  other  in 
devotion,  in  self-denial.  Let  us  lend  each  other  force, 
help,  and  support.  Let  all  who  are  not  with  us  be  our 
prey.    Let  us  isolate  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  all,  against 

268 


THE  AMBUSCADE. 


all,  in  spite  of  all.  For  us  let  there  be  no  country,  no 
family!  Our  family  is  our  brethren;  our  country,  the 
universe ! " 

This  savage  eloquence  deeply  impressed  the  negro  and 
the  Hindoo,  who  were  usually  under  the  influence  of 
Faringhea,  whose  intelligence  was  so  greatly  superior  to 
their  own,  although  they  themselves  were  amongst  the 
most  eminent  leaders  of  this  sanguinary  fraternity. 

"  You  are  right,  brother,"  exclaimed  the  Hindoo,  fired 
by  the  enthusiasm  of  Faringhea ;  "  be  the  world  ours ! 
Here,  even  in  Java,  let  us  leave  a  trace  of  our  passage. 
Before  we  quit  it,  let  us  establish  the  good  work  in  this 
island ;  it  will  increase,  for  her  misery  is  great.  The 
Dutch  are  as  rapacious  as  the  English.  Brothers,  I  saw 
in  the  marshy  rice  fields  of  this  isle,  always  deadly  to 
those  who  cultivate  them,  men  whom  want  forced  to  this 
suicidal  labour ;  they  were  pale  and  wan  as  dead  corpses. 
Some,  attenuated  by  sickness,  fatigue,  and  famine,  fell 
never  again  to  rise!  Brothers,  the  good  work  will 
increase  in  this  land  ! " 

"  The  other  evening,"  said  the  mulatto,  "  I  was  on  the 
border  of  the  lake  behind  a  rock ;  a  young  woman  came 
thither  having  on  a  few  miserable  rags,  which  scarcely 
covered  her  lean  and  wasted  frame.  In  her  arms  she 
bore  a  young  child,  whom  she,  weeping,  pressed  against 
her  dried-up  breast.  She  embraced  the  infant  thrice, 
saying,  <  Thou,  at  least,  shalt  not  become  miserable  like 
thy  father  ! '  and  she  cast  it  into  the  waters,  uttering  a 
piercing  shriek  as  the  child  sunk.  At  this  sound  an 
alligator,  concealed  in  the  reeds,  dashed  into  the  lake. 
Brothers,  here  mothers  kill  their  children  for  pity's  sake. 
Oh,  the  good  work  will  increase  in  this  land !  " 

"  This  morning,"  said  the  negro,  "  whilst  they  were 
mangling  one  of  the  black  slaves  with  the  lash,  a  little 
old  man,  a  merchant  of  Batavia,  left  his  country-house 
to  return  to  the  city.  In  his  palanquin  he  received, 
with  all  the  indolence  of  palled  appetite,  the  sad  caresses 

269 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


of  two  of  the  young  creatures  with  whom  his  harem  is 
peopled,  by  purchasing  them  of  their  parents,  too  poor 
to  bring  them  up.  The  palanquin  which  held  this  old 
man  and  the  two  young  girls  was  borne  by  a  dozen 
young  and  powerful  men.  Brethren,  there  are  mothers 
here  who,  from  want,  sell  their  children,  —  slaves  who 
have  not  a  brute's  pity  nor  a  hound's  fee,  men  who 
carry  others  like  beasts  of  burthen  ;  yes,  yes,  the  good 
work  will  increase  in  this  country !  " 

"  In  this  country  ?  Yes,  and  in  every  country  of 
oppression,  misery,  corruption,  and  slavery." 

"  Should  we  succeed  in  engaging  Djalma  to  join  us, 
as  Mahal  the  smuggler  advises  us,"  said  the  Indian, 
« our  voyage  to  Java  will  be  doubly  profitable ;  for 
before  we  go  we  shall  include  in  our  ranks  this  bold 
and  daring  young  man,  who  has  so  many  motives  for 
hating  mankind." 

"  When  he  comes  we  will  sharpen  his  animosities." 

"  Let  us  remind  him  of  his  father's  death." 

"  The  slaughter  of  all  his  people." 

"  His  own  captivity." 

"If  hatred  but  inflame  his  heart,  he  is  assuredly 
ours." 

The  negro,  who  had  been  for  some  time  lost  in  thought, 
said  abruptly : 

«  My  brothers,  what  if  the  smuggler  Mahal  has  de- 
ceived us?" 

"He!"  exclaimed  the  Indian,  almost  indignantly. 
"  Why,  he  gave  us  refuge  on  board  his  coaster,  and 
effected  our  escape  from  the  mainland,  and  he  will  take 
us  on  board  the  schooner  which  he  is  to  command,  and 
convey  us  to  Bombay,  where  we  shall  find  vessels  for 
America,  Europe,  and  Africa." 

"  What  interest  can  Mahal  have  for  betraying  us  ? " 
inquired  Faringhea.  "  He  knows  how  impossible  it  is  to 
escape  the  vengeance  of  the  sons  of  Bohwanie." 

«  Then,  too,"  said  the  black,  "  he  has  promised,  by  a 

270 


THE  AMBUSCADE. 


trick,  to  bring  Djalma  here  amongst  us  this  evening; 
and,  once  here,  he  must  become  one  of  us." 

"Besides,  was  it  not  the  smuggler  who  said  to  us, 
<  Order  the  Malay  to  go  to  Djalma's  ajoupa,  to  surprise 
him  during  sleep,  but  instead  of  killing  him,  as  he  might, 
let  him  mark  on  his  arm  Bohwanie's  name?'  Thus 
Djalma  will  judge  of  the  resolution,  address,  and  devo- 
tion of  our  brotherhood,  and  know  what  there  is  to  hope 
and  fear  from  such  men.  Through  admiration  or  fear, 
then,  he  must  join  us." 

"  But  should  he  refuse  to  do  so,  in  spite  of  the  reasons 
he  has  to  hate  his  fellow  men  ?  " 

"  Then,  Bohwanie  will  decide  upon  his  destiny ,"  said 
Faringhea,  with  a  gloomy  air.    "  I  have  my  plan." 

"Think  you  the  Malay  will  succeed  in  surprising 
Djalma  during  his  sleep?"  said  the  negro. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  living  creature  to  be  bolder,  more 
adroit,  and  more  active  than  the  Malay,"  said  Faringhea. 
"He  has  had  the  daring  to  surprise  a  black  female 
panther  in  her  lair  whilst  she  was  suckling,  and  he  killed 
the  mother  and  carried  off  the  cub,  which  he  afterwards 
sold  to  the  captain  of  a  European  vessel." 
.  "  T.ne  Malay  has  succeeded  !  "  exclaimed  the  Hindoo, 
listening  to  a  singular  cry  which  resounded  through  the 
deep  silence  of  the  night  and  woods. 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  cry  of  the  vulture  who  bears  off  his 
prey,"  said  the  negro,  also  listening.  "It  is  the  signal 
by  which  our  brethren  announce  their  success." 

Shortly  afterwards  the  Malay  appeared  at  the  door  of 
the  hut.  He  was  dressed  in  a  large  piece  of  cotton, 
striped  with  various  bright  colours. 

"  Djalma  will  all  his  life  bear  the  mark  of  the  good 
work,"  said  the  Malay,  exultingly.  "  To  get  at  him  I 
was  compelled  to  offer  up  to  Bohwanie  a  man  who 
crossed  my  path ;  I  left  his  carcass  under  the  bushes 
near  the  ajoupa.  Djalma  bears  our  sign  — Mahal  the 
smuggler  was  the  first  to  know  that." 

271 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  And  Djalma  did  not  awake  ? "  said  the  Indian, 
amazed  at  the  Malay's  address. 

"  If  he  had  awakened,  I  must  have  been  dead,"  replied 
he,  calmly ;  "  for  I  was  ordered  to  spare  his  life." 

"  Because  his  life  may  be  more  useful  to  us  than 
his .  death,"  replied  the  mulatto.  Then,  addressing  the 
Malay,  "  Brother,  in  risking  your  life  for  the  good  work, 
you  have  done  to-day  what  we  did  yesterday,  and  must 
do  again  to-morrow.  To-day,  you  obey:  another  day, 
and  you  will  command." 

"  We  all  belong  to  Bohwanie,"  said  the  Malay. 
"  What  is  next  to  be  done  ?    I  am  ready." 

As  he  spoke,  the  Malay  turned  towards  the  door  of 
the  hovel,  and  said  suddenly,  and  in  a  calm  voice,  "  Here 
is  Djalma  —  he  is  approaching  the  cabin;  Mahal  has  not 
deceived  us." 

"  He  must  not  see  me  yet,"  said  Faringhea,  going  into 
the  further  corner  of  the  hut  and  concealing  himself 
beneath  a  mat.  "  Try  and  persuade  him ;  if  he  resist,  I 
have  my  plan." 

Faringhea  had  scarcely  disappeared  when  Djalma 
reached  the  door  of  the  hovel. 

At  the  sight  of  these  three  persons,  with  countenances 
so  repulsive,  Djalma  recoiled  in  surprise.  Ignorant  that 
these  men  belonged  to  the  sect  of  Phansigar,  and  knowing 
that  in  this  country,  where  there  are  no  public-houses, 
travellers  often  pass  the  night  under  tents,  or  in  ruins 
which  they  pass,  he  made  a  step  towards  them.  When 
his  first  surprise  was  over,  recognising,  in  the  bronzed 
features  and  peculiar  costume  of  one  of  these  individuals, 
a  Hindoo,  he  said  to  him,  in  his  native  tongue : 

"  I  expected  to  find  here  a  European,  —  a  French- 
man." 

"The  Frenchman  is  not  here  now,"  replied  the  Indian; 
"  but  he  will  not  be  long."  g 

The  Indian  comprehending  by  Dj alma's  question  the 
means  which  Mahal  had  made  use  of  to  draw  him 

272 


THE  AMBUSCADE. 


into  this  snare,  hoped  to  gain  time  by  not  undeceiving 
him. 

"  Do  you  know  this  Frenchman  ? "  asked  Djalma  of 
the  Phansigar. 

"  He  appointed  to  meet  us  here  as  well  as  yourself," 
replied  the  Indian. 

"  And  why  ? "  said  Djalma,  more  and  more  astonished. 

"  You  will  know  when  he  arrives." 

"  Was  it  General  Simon  who  told  you  to  be  here  ? " 

"  It  was  General  Simon." 

There  was  a  momentary  pause,  during  which  Djalma 
in  vain  endeavoured  to  expound  this  mystery. 

"  And  who  are  you  ? "  he  inquired  of  the  Indian  with 
a  suspicious  air,  for  the  profound  silence  which  the  two 
companions  of  the  Phansigar  observed  began  to  excite 
his  suspicion.  . 

"  Who  are  we  ?  "  replied  the  Hindoo  ;  "  we  are  yours 
if  you  will  be  ours." 

"  I  have  no  need  of  you ;  you  have  no  need  of  me." 

"  Who  knows  ?  " 

"  I  know." 

"You  deceive  yourself;  the  English  killed  your  father; 
he  was  a  king.  You  have  been  a  captive,  proscribed, 
and  now  possess  nothing." 

At  this  reminding  of  his  condition  and  his  sufferings, 
Djalma's  brow  became  clouded  ;  he  started,  and  a  bitter 
smile  curled  his  lips.    The  Phansigar  continued : 

"  Your  father  was  just  and  brave  ;  beloved  by  his 
subjects  ;  he  was  called  the  Father  of  the  Generous, 
and  well  named  was  he.  Will  you  let  his  death  pass 
away  without  vengeance  ?  Hatred  is  gnawing  at  your 
heart ;  shall  it  bite  into  you  in  vain  ?  " 

"  My  father  died  with  his  weapons  in  his  hand.  I 
revenged  his  death  on  the  English,  whom  I  slew  in 
battle.  He  who  replaced  my  father,  and  also  fought  for 
him,  has  told  me  that  it  would  be  folly,  madness,  for 
me  to  seek  to  contend  against  the  English  to  recover 

273 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


my  territory.  When  they  set  me  at  liberty  I  swore 
never  again  to  set  foot  in  India,  and  I ,  will  keep  my 
word." 

"  They  who  despoiled  you,  who  made  you  captive,  who 
killed  your  father,  are  men.  Yes,  men !  And  there  are 
other  men  on  whom  you  may  take  vengeance ;  let  your 
hate  fall  on  them." 

"  You,  who  speak  so  of  your  fellow  men,  are  not  you 
also  a  man  ?  " 

"  I,  and  those  who  are  with  me,  are  more  than  men. 
We  are  to  the  rest  of  the  human  race  what  the  bold 
hunters  are  to  the  fierce  beasts  whom  they  track  into  the 
woods.  Will  you  become  as  we  are  —  more  than  a 
man  ?  Will  you  assuage  surely,  widely,  fully,  safely, 
the  hatred  that  devours  your  heart,  after  all  the  ill,  the 
injury  they  have  done  you  ?" 

"  Your  words  become  more  and  more  obscure.  I  have 
no  hatred  in  my  heart,"  said  Djalma.  "  When  an  enemy 
is  worthy  of  me,  I  fight  him ;  when  he  is  unworthy,  I 
despise  him ;  and  so  I  do  not  hate  either  the  brave  or 
the  coward." 

"Treachery!"  exclaimed  the  negro,  suddenly  point- 
ing to  the  door  with  a  quick  gesture ;  for  Djalma  and 
the  Indian  had  moved,  in  the  course  of  their  conversa- 
tion, towards  one  of  the  corners  of  the  hut. 

At  the  cry  of  the  negro,  Faringhea,  whom  Djalma 
had  not  perceived,  threw  rapidly  from  him  the  mat 
behind  which  he  was  concealed,  drew  his  dagger,  and, 
with  a  leap  like  a  tiger's,  was  out  of  the  cabin.  Seeing 
then  a  body  of  soldiers  approaching  cautiously,  he  struck 
one  of  them  dead  with  his  poignard,  dashed  down  two 
others,  and  then  disappeared  amidst  the  ruins. 

This  occurred  so  instantaneously  that,  at  the  moment 
when  Djalma  turned  around  to  seek  the  cause  of  the 
negro's  alarm  and  cry,  Faringhea  had  disappeared. 

Djalma  and  the  three  Stranglers  were  then  immedi- 
ately under  the  fire  of  the  raised  muskets  of  many  of 

274 


THE  AMBUSCADE. 


the  soldiery,  whilst  the  others  hastened  in  pursuit  of 
Faringhea. 

The  negro,  the  Malay,  and  the  Hindoo,  seeing  the 
inutility  of  resistance,  rapidly  exchanged  some  words, 
and  then  extended  their  hands  to  the  cords  with  which 
the  soldiers  were  furnished. 

The  Dutch  captain  who  commanded  the  detachment 
entered  the  cabin. 

"And  this  one,"  said  he,  pointing  out  Djalma  to  the 
soldiers,  who  had  bound  the  three  Phansigars. 

"  Each  in  his  turn,  sir,"  said  the  old  sergeant ; "  we 
were  going  on  to  him." 

Djalma  remained  petrified  with  surprise,  wholly  un- 
able to  comprehend  anything  that  passed  around  him ; 
but  when  he  saw  the  sergeant  and  two  soldiers  advance 
to  bind  him,  he  repulsed  them  with  violent  indignation, 
and  hastened  to  the  door  where  the  officer  was  standing. 

^  The  soldiers,  believing  that  Djalma  would  submit  to 
his  fate  as  quietly  as  his  companions,  did  not  anticipate 
this  resistance ;  but  struck,  in  spite  of  themselves,  with 
the  dignity  and  nobility  of  the  air  of  Kadja-Sing's  son, 
they  retreated  a  pace  or  two. 

«  Why  would  you  bind  me  as  you  have  these  men  ? " 
exclaimed  Djalma,  speaking  in  Indian  to  the  officer,  who 
understood  the  language. 

"  Why  bind  you,  you  wretch  ?  Because  you  are  one 
of  this  gang  of  assassins." 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  him  ? "  said  he  in  Dutch  to  his 
men.  "  Bind  him,  bind  him  hard  and  fast,  and  tie 
your  knots  tight  around  his  wrists ;  he'll  have  a  tighter 
one  around  his  neck  very  speedily." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  Djalma,  with  a  calmness 
and  dignity  which  astounded  the  officer.  "  I  have  been 
here  scarcely  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  I  know  nothing  of 
these  men.    I  expected  to  have  found  a  Frenchman  here." 

"You  are  not  a  Phansigar  like  them?  Who  will 
believe  that  lie  ? " 

275 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Like  them ! "  exclaimed  Djalma,  with  a  movement 
of  horror  so  natural  that  the  officer  signed  to  his 
soldiers  to  be  quiet.  "  These  men  form  part  of  that 
horrible  body  of  murderers  ?  And  do  you  accuse  me 
of  being  their  accomplice  ?  Then  I  am  quite  reassured, 
sir,"  said  the  young  man,  shrugging  his  shoulders  and 
smiling  disdainfully. 

"  Your  expression  of  tranquillity  will  not  suffice  in 
this  case,  as,  thanks  to  certain  information  we  have 
received,  we  are  cognisant  of  the  mysterious  signs  which 
designate  a  Phansigar." 

"  I  repeat,  that  you  yourself,  sir,  cannot  hold  this 
murderous  sect  in  greater  abhorrence  than  I  do  ! " 

The  negro,  interrupting  Djalma  with  ferocious  joy, 
addressed  the  officer,  saying  : 

"  You  have  spoken  well.  The  sons  of  the  good  work 
are  easily  known  by  the  mystic  characters  tattooed  on 
their  body.  Our  hour  has  arrived,  and  we  welcome  our 
fate.  Full  oft  has  our  fatal  cord  encircled  the  necks 
of  such  as  were  enemies  of  the  good  work.  Now,  then, 
first  behold  our  arms ;  then  examine  those  of  this  young 
man." 

The  officer,  only  imperfectly  understanding  the  words 
of  the  negro,  turned  to  Djalma,  saying : 

"It  is  clear  that  if,  as  this  negro  asserts,  you  do  not 
bear  on  your  arm  the  mysterious  symbol,  and  of  that  we 
shall  easily  satisfy  ourselves,  and  can  fully  account  for 
your  presence  on  this  spot,  you  will  be  liberated  at  the 
end  of  two  hours." 

"  You  do  not  comprehend  me,"  exclaimed  the  negro 
to  the  officer.  "  Prince  Djalma  is  our  leading  brother, 
and  bears  on  his  left  arm  the  name  of  Bohwanie  in  testi- 
mony thereof." 

"  Yes,"  added  the  Malay  ;  "  he  is  as  much  the  sworn 
servant  of  the  good  work  as  we  are." 

"  And  as  complete  a  Phansigar  as  any  of  us,"  rejoined 
the  Indian. 

276 


THE  AMBUSCADE. 


These  three  men,  deeply  irritated  at  the  indignant 
aisgust  with  which  Djalma  had  repudiated  the  idea  of 
belonging  to  their  sect,  now  took  a  ferocious  delight  in 
endeavouring  to  prove  the  son  of  Kadja-Sing  a  member 
ot  their  horrible  association. 

"What  answer  do  you  make  to  all  this?"  inquired 
the  officer  of  Djalma. 

m  The  prince  smiling  disdainfully,  replied  only  by  thrust- 
ing back  with  his  right  hand  the  loose  hanging  sleeve 
irom  his  left  arm,  and  extending  it  bare  to  the  shoulder, 
tor  general  inspection. 

«  Unparalleled  audacity  !  "  exclaimed  the  officer,  as, 
directing  his  glance  to  the  outstretched  arm  of  the 
prince  he  beheld,  in  indelible  characters  of  deep  blood 
red,  the  name  of  Bohwanie  traced  just  above  the  princi- 
pal veins  at  the  bend  of  the  inside  elbow  joint. 

Passing  rapidly  from  the  prince  to  the  Malay,  the 
officer  pushed  back  his  sleeve,  and  saw  the  same  letters 
similarly  traced.  Still  determined  upon  further  proof, 
he  carefully  examined  the  arms  of  the  negro  and  Indian; 
each  bore  the  precise  counterpart  of  the  mysterious 
words  written  on  the  arm  of  Djalma. 

"  Miserable  and  contemptible  being!"  cried  the  officer, 
turning  towards  the  prince,  in  a  paroxysm  of  rase  ;  "  you 
are  more  hateful  and  abhorrent  to  my  sight  than  even 
your  wretched  associates!  Handcuff  him,  like  a  mean, 
cowardly  assassin  as  he  is!"  added  he  to  the  soldiers! 

tie  him  as  a  paltry  miscreant  who  lies  even  on  the 
verge  of  the  grave,  for  assuredly  his  punishment  will  not 
be  long  deferred." 

Stupefied  and  speechless,  Djalma  remained  in  mute 
and  motionless  surprise,  gazing  on  the  fatal  and  incom- 
prehensible marks  upon  his  arm,  his  whole  being  ab- 
sorbed m  dismay  and  wonder  at  a  fact  so  bewildering. 

"Have  you  still  the  effrontery  to  deny  bearing  these 
characters?"  exclaimed  the  officer,  with  deep  disgust 
and  indignation. 

277 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Alas,  no  !  "  returned  the  prince,  in  accents  of  in- 
tense suffering.    "  'Tis  there  —  I  see  it  but  too  plainly." 

» 'Tis  well,  unhappy  man,  that  you  at  length  avow 
your  guilt,"  replied  the  officer.  «  Soldiers,  watch  over 
this  .person  and  his  accomplices.  Remember  your  own 
lives  will  have  to  answer  for  it  if  you  suffer  them  to 

escape."  ,  ,  .  - 

Djalma,  who  could  not  believe  all  this  was  more  than 
a  fearful  dream,  and  whose  senses  were  so  completely 
disturbed  as  to  prevent  his  attempting  to  justify  himself 
allowed  the  soldiers  to  manacle"  his  limbs,  and  lead  him 
away  without  offering  the  slightest  resistance. 

The  officer,  aided  by  a  party  of  soldiers,  sought  dili- 
gently throughout  the  ruins  in  hopes  of  discovering 
Faringhea,  but  in  vain ;  and  at  the  lapse  of  an  hour  he 
followed  the  prisoners,  who  had  been  previously  de- 
spatched to  Batavia  under  a  powerful  escort. 

A  few  hours  after  the  passing  of  the  events  we  have 
just  described,  M.  Joshua  Yan  Dael  thus  terminated  his 
long  letter  of  particulars  addressed  to  M.  Rodin,  at  Paris  : 

"  Circumstances  rendered  it  impossible  for  me  to  act 
otherwise  than  I  have  done ;  and,  after  all,  if  a  small 
mischief  has  been  done,  it  has  been  to  effect  a  great 

"  Three  atrocious  murderers  have  been  delivered  into 
the  hands  of  justice,  and  the  temporary  arrest  of  Djalma 
will  only  serve  to  display  his  innocence  in  a  stronger  light. 

"  I  have  already  been  this  morning  to  the  governor 
to  assert  the  innocence  of  the  young  prince ;  '  for,'  said 
I,  <  since  it  is  entirely  owing  to  me  that  three  notorious 
criminals  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  justice,  I  have 
a  strong  claim  upon  the  gratitude  of  the  public  authori- 
ties, whose  long  and  earnest  desire  I  have  now  enabled 
them  to  carry  into  effect;  and  I  therefore  require^ as 
my  sole  recompense,  that  they  will  use  every  exertion 

278 


THE  AMBUSCADE. 


to  clear  the  character  of  Prince  Djalma,  already  so 
justly  estimated  for  his  many  noble  qualities,  and  de- 
servedly commiserated  for  his  great  misfortunes.  Cer- 
tainly,' continued  I,  <  when  I  hastened  yesterday  to 
apprise  the  governor  that  a  meeting  of  the  Phansigars 
would  take  place  in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi,  I  was  far 
from  expecting  that  it  would,  in  any  way,  involve  the 
character  and  safety  of  the  adopted  soa  of  General 
Simon,  whom  I  know  to  be  a  most  highly  honourable 
man,  and  with  whom  I  have  had  many  satisfactory 
transactions.' 

.  "  We  must,  therefore,  at  all  risks,  and  at  any  cost  of 
time  or  patience,  use  the  most  strenuous  efforts  to  pene- 
trate the  inconceivable  mystery  which  has  placed  Djalma 
in  his  present  dangerous  position.  <  And,'  added  I,  <  I 
am  so  perfectly  convinced  of  his  entire  innocence  of  the 
revolting  charge  under  which  he  now  suffers,  that  for 
his  own  sake  I  seek  no  pardon,  neither  do  I  solicit  his 
immediate  release,  — the  prince,  I  am  assured,  possesses 
too  much  pride  and  dignity  to  desire  to  quit  his  prison 
until  his  innocence  is  made  to  appear  clear  and  un- 
clouded as  the  sun  at  noonday.' 

«  You  will  perceive  that  in  thus  expressing  myself 
I  in  no  respect  departed  from  the  truth,  neither  have  I 
loaded  my  conscience  with  the  slightest  falsehood,  since 
no  person  can  be  more  perfectly  satisfied  of  the  innocence 
of  Prince  Djalma  than  myself. 

"  The  reply  of  the  governor  was  precisely  what  I 
expected  it  would  be.  He  said  that,  morally  speaking, 
he  was  equally  convinced  with  myself  of  the  young 
prince's  innocence,  and  that  his  best  exertions  should  be 
given  to  clear  him  of  the  foul  accusation ;  but  'that 
justice  must  take  its  course,  because  it  afforded  the  only 
certain  method  of  demonstrating  the  falsity  of  the 
charge  made  against  the  prince,  or  of  discovering  by 
what  incomprehensible  fatality  the  mysterious  characters 
were  tattooed  on  the  arm  of  Djalma. 

279 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Mahal  the  smuggler,  who  alone  could  clear  up  this 
perplexing  point,  will  have  quitted  Batavia  within  an 
hour,  to  embark  on  board  the  Ruyter,  which  will  land 
him  in  Egypt;  and  he  will  be  furnished  with  a  note 
from  me,  recommending  him  to  the  captain  of  that 
vessel  as  the  individual  whose  passage  on  board  the 
Ruyter  I  have  engaged  and  paid  for.  He. will  also  bring 
you  this  long'  letter,  for  the  ship  I  am  referring  to  sails 
in  an  hour,  and  the  letters  for  Europe  were  made  up  and 
the  bags  closed  last  night.  I  wished,  however,  to  report 
to  you  the  result  of  my  conference  with  the  governor 
this  morning,  before  finally  sealing  my  voluminous 
packet.  ' 

"  You  perceive,  therefore,  by  what  I  have  said,  that 
Prince  Djalma  will  be  forcibly  detained  here  for  at  least 
a  month ;  and  the  opportunity  of  sailing  by  the  Ruyter 
thus  lost,  it  will  be  entirely  impossible  for  the  young 
Indian  to  he  in  France  before  the  thirteenth  of  February 
in  the  coming  year. 

"  Thus  have  I,  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  blindly  and 
explicitly  followed  your  directions,  considering  only 
the  aim  and  end  which  should  justify  the  means  em- 
ployed. You  assure  me  that  the  welfare  of  society 
requires  the  sacrifice  of  a  few  to  the  general  good,  and 
I  yield  implicit  obedience  to  your  words  and  commands, 
passively  contenting  myself  with  being,  what  all  should 
be,  willing  to  become -a  mere  machine  in  the  hands  of  my 
superiors,  obeying  their  impulse,  without  even  seeking 
to  guess  the  motive  or  reason ;  and  well  remember- 
ing that  high  and  impressive  command,  4  that,  to  pro- 
mote any  great  or  holy  design,  we  should  place  ourselves 
in  the  hands  of  our  superiors, —  as  mute,  as  passive, 
and  as  passionless  as  would  be  a  corpse  taken  from  its 
grave.' 1 

i  It  is  well  known  that  the  doctrine  of,  passive  and  absolute  obedience,  the 
irrand  pivot  on  which  the  body  of  Jesuits  turned,  was  recalled  by  the  dying 
words  of  Loyola:  "  Let  each  member  of  this  association  be  in  the  hands  01 
his  superiors  like  a  corpse  drawn  from  the  tomb,  —  perinde  ac  cadaver. 

280 


( 


THE  AMBUSCADE. 


"Let  us  then  continue  to  act  in  firm  concert  and 
entire  confidence  in  each  other's  zeal,  for  we  live  in 
troubled  times ;  circumstances  and  events  may  alter,  we 
can  know  no  change.  Obedience  and  courage,  secrecy 
and  patience,  cunning  and  boldness,  union  and  devotion, 
be  henceforth  the  watchwords  of  those  who  have  no 
country  but  the  universe,  no  family  but  our  brethren, 
and  no  authority  but  the  Church  of  Rome.       j.  v." 

About  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Mahal  the  smuggler 
departed  with  his  sealed  despatches  to  go  on  board  the 
Ruyter;  but  at  the  expiration  of  an  hour,  his  body 
evidently  strangled  by  the  Phansigars,  was  found  among 
the  rushes  of  a  wild  spot  he  had  to  pass  in  order  to 
reach  his  bark,  and  proceed  in  her  to  the  vessel  he  was 
to  sail  in. 

The  Ruyter  had  been  gone  more  than  an  hour  when 
the  body  of  the  smuggler  was  first  discovered ;  but  in 
jam  did  M.  Joshua  cause  the  strictest  search  to  be  made 
for  the  voluminous  packet  entrusted  to  him,  —  not  a 
trace  could  be  discovered  of  it,  or  the  letter  addressed  to 
the  captain  of  the  Ruyter,  recommending  Mahal  as  the 
passenger  he  was  to  expect;  neither  were  the  close 
researches  made  after  Faringhea  successful. 

The  dangerous  chief  of  the  Stranglers  was  never  again 
seen  in  Java. 


281 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDQVILLE.   M.  RODIN. 

Three  months  have  passed  away  since  Djalma  was 
cast  into  prison  at  Batavia,  accused  of  belonging  to  the 
murderous  sect  of  the  Phansigars  or  Stranglers.  The 
scene  we  now  describe  is  in  France,  at  the  beginning  of 
the  month  of  February,  1832,  at  the  Chateau  de  Cardo- 
ville,  an  ancient  feudal  habitation,  situated  on  the  high 
cliffs  of  the  coast  of  Picardy,  not  far  from  St.  Valery,  a 
very  dangerous  seashore,  where  almost  every  year  ships 
are  lost  in  gales  from  the  northwest,  which  render  the 
navigation  of  the  channel  so  dangerous. 

In  the  interior  of  the  chateau  was  heard  the  roaring  of 
the  wild  tempest  which  had  arisen  in  the  night,  and,  at 
intervals,  there  was  a  loud  noise  resembling  a  discharge 
of  artillery,  which  echoed  all  around,  and  was  repeated 
by  the  hollows  of  the  rocks.  It  was  the  sea  which 
dashed  with  fury  against  the  high  cliffs  which  towered 
around  the  old  manor-house. 

It  was  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  day- 
light had  not  penetrated  the  windows  of  the  large  apart- 
ment on  the  ground  floor  of  the  chateau  ;  it  was  lighted 
by  a  lamp,  before  which  was  seated  a  female  of  about 
sixty  years  of  age,  with  an  open  and  good-tempered  face, 
clothed  after  the  fashion  of  the  respectable  farmers' 
wives  of  Picardy,  and  occupied  with  needlework,  al- 
though it  was  so  early.  At  a  little  distance  was  her  hus- 
band, about  her  own  age.  He  was  seated  before  a  large 
table,  and  sorting  out  and  putting  into  small  bags  samples 

282 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 

of  wheat  and  oats.  The  countenance  of  this  gray-haired 
old  man  was  intelligent  and  honest,  expressive  of  sound 
sense  and  a  love  of  fair  dealing,  and  lighted  up  by  a  look 
ot  mirthful  humour.  He  wore  a  cutaway  coat  of  green 
cloth,  high  tanned-leather  gaiters,  coming  above  the 
knees  of  his  black  velveteen  breeches. 

The  terrible  storm  which  was  raging  outside  seemed  to 
make  this  peaceable  interior  even  still  more  comfortable 
An  excellent  fire  was  blazing  in  a  chimney-place  made 
of  white  marble,  which  threw  the  reflection  of  its  cheer- 
ful glare  on  the  carefully  dry-rubbed  floor.  Nothing 
could  be  more  gay  than  the  hangings  and  curtains  of 
old  Persian  cloth,  with  red  Chinese  figures  on  a  white 
ground  ;  and  nothing  more  pleasing  than  the  paintings  in 
the  panels  of  the  room,  which  represented  village  scenes 
shepherds  and  shepherdesses,  in  the  style  of  Watteau. 
A  pendule  in  Sevres  biscuit,  rosewood  furniture  inlaid 
with  buhlwork  and  of  old-fashioned  construction,  in  all 
sorts  ot  odd  shapes,  twistings,  and  crooked  constructions, 
completed  the  fittmg-up  of  the  apartment. 

The  tempest  continued  to  roar  without,  and  the  wind 
from  time  to  time  howled  in  the  chimney,  or  shook 
violently  the  casements  of  the  window.  The  man  who 
was  occupied  in  sorting  the  samples  of  grain  was  M. 
Uupont,  the  land-steward  of  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville. 
Samte  Vrerge!  my  dear,"  said  his  wife  to  him, 
what  awful  weather  !  This  Monsieur  Rodin,  whose 
arrival  the  head  steward  of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier 
has  informed  us  we  are  to  expect  this  morning,  has 
selected  a  very  uncomfortable  day  for  his  journey." 

fnl  J  7'  ?  t?™'  othink  1  "ever  member  such  a  fear- 
ful tempest.  If  M.  Rodin  never  saw  the  sea  in  a  rage,  he 
may  to-day  amuse  himself  with  the  sight  " 

"Who  is  this  M.  Rodin  who  is  to  come  here  to-day, 
mon  ami  ?"  «y> 

"M*foi!  I  don't  know;  the  intendant  of  the  princess 
desires  me  in  his  letter  to  show  him  every  attention,  and 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


obey  him  as  I  would  my  master.  It  will  be  for  M.  Rodin 
to  explain  himself,  and  for  me  to  obey  his  orders,  since 
he  comes  from  the  princess  herself." 

"  Why,  to  be  quite  precise,  it  is  from  Mile.  Adrienne 
that  he  really  comes,  as  the  estate  belongs  to  her  since 
the  death  of  her  late  father,  the  Count-Duke  de  Cardo- 
ville." 

"  Yes,  but  the  princess  is  her  aunt,  and  her  chief 
agent  does  the  business  of  Mile.  Adrienne  ;  so,  whether  he 
comes  from  her  or  the  princess,  why,  it's  all  the  same 
thing." 

'  "  Perhaps  M.  Rodin  intends  to  purchase  the  estate, 
although  the  stout  lady  who  came  purposely  from  Paris 
a  week  ago,  to  see  the  chateau,  seemed  very  anxious  to 
have  it." 

At  these  words  the  steward  smiled. 

"  What  makes  you  laugh,  Dupont  ?  "  inquired  his  wife, 
who  was  an  excellent  woman,  but  not  remarkable  for  the 
brilliancy  of  her  understanding  or  the  acuteness  of  her 
penetration. 

"  I  laugh,"  replied  Dupont, "  because  I  was  thinking  of 
the  face  and  figure  of  this  stout,  this  enormous  woman. 
Only  imagine  with  such  an  appearance  that  any  female 
should  call  herself  Madame  de  Sainte-Colombe  !  Dieu  de 
dieu  !  What  a  saint  and  what  a  dove  (colombey.  She  is 
as  big  as  a  kilderkin,  with  a  voice  like  a  dram-drinker, 
and  moustaches  as  thick  and  gray  as  a  grenadier  of  the 
line  !  And  I  heard  her  say  to  her  servant,  <  Come,  get 
on,  my  trump  ! '    And  she  is  Sainte-Colombe  !  " 

"Really,  Dupont,  you  make  very  strange  remarks. 
She  didn't  choose  her  own  name,  you  know^;  and  as  to 
her  beard,  poor  lady,  she  cannot  help  that !  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  her  fault  if  she  calls  herself  De  la 
Sainte-Colombe ;  you  can't  believe  that  it  is  her  real 
name.    Ah,  my  poor  Catherine,  you  are  as  simple  as 


f  » 


ever! 

«  And  you,  my  poor  Dupont,  you  cannot  help  always 

284 


THE  CHATEAU  HE  CARDOVILLE. 


saying  little  sharp  things.  Now  I  think  the  lady  looked 
very  respectable.  The  first  thing,  too,  that  she  asked 
when  she  arrived  was  about  the  chapel  belonging  to  the 
chateau,  of  which  she  had  been  informed.  She  declared 
she  would  fit  it  up  again ;  and  when  I  told  her  that 
there  was  no  church  in  this  small  district,  she  appeared 
quite  distressed  at  being  deprived  of  a  cure  in  the 
village." 

«  Yes  —  ah  !  yes  —  the  first  thing  your  parvenus  do  is 
always  to  play  the  charitable,  and  meddle  with  the 
affairs  of  the  parish,  like  a  great  lady." 

"  But  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  has  no  occasion 
to  play  the  great  lady,  for  she  is  so  already." 

"  She  a  great  lady  ? " 

"Yes;  why,  only  look  at  how  beautifully  she  was 
dressed,  with  her  shot-silk  gown  and  her  violet-coloured 
gloves,  as  handsome  as  a  bishop's  ;  and  then,  when  she 
took  off  her  hat,  she  had  around  her  false  hair  a  bandeau 
of  diamonds,  and  earrings  of  diamonds  as  large  as  my 
thumb-nail,  and  rings  on  every  one  of  her  fingers! 
Depend  upon  it  she  is  a  person  of  consequence,  or  she 
would  not  wear  so  many  jewels  in  the  open  day." 

"  Urn,  urn,  you  are  a  very  clever  body." 

"  That  is  not  all." 

«  Go  on  —  what  else  ? " 

"  She  talked  of  nothing  and  nobody  but  dukes,  mar- 
quises, counts,  and  very  rich  people,  who  visited  her, 
and  were  her  friends ;  and  then,  when  she  saw  the  little 
pavilion  in  the  park,  which  was  half  burnt  down  by  the 
Prussians,  and  which  the  late  count  would  not  repair, 
she  said,  ^  What  ruins  are  these  ? '  I  replied,  '  Madame, 
this  pavilion  was  burnt  down  when  the  allies  were  in 
this  country.'  <  Indeed,  my  dear,'  said  she  ;  <  the  allies  — 
the  good  allies  — the  dear  allies  — they  and  the  Resto- 
ration began  to  make  my  fortune.'  Then  I  said  to 
myself,  Dupont,  says  I,  <  Ah,  I  see,  she  is  an  ancient 
emigree?  " 

285 


THE  WANDERING  JEW- 


«  Madame  de  Sainte-Colombe  ! "  shrieked  the  steward, 
bursting  with  laughter  ;  "  oh,  my  poor  wife !   my  poor 

"  Ah,  because  you  were  once  for  three  years  in  rans, 
you' think  you  know  everything." 

«  Catherine,  my  dear,  let  us  talk  of  something  else ; 
you  will  make  me  say  something  I  do  not  wish.  There 
are  things,  my  love,  which  good  and  simple-hearted 
creatures  like  you  ought  never  to  know." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  by  that,  but  pray  try 
not  to  say  such  ill-natured  things  of  people;  for  if 
Madame  de  Sainte-Colombe  does  buy  the  estate,  you 
wish  to  remain  as  steward,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  do,  for  we  are  growing  very  old,  Cath- 
erine, dear ;  and  having  been  here  for  twenty  years  we 
have  been  too  honest  to  save  money  for  our  old  age  ; 
and,  ma  foil  it  would  be  very  hard,  at  our  time  of  life, 
to  have  to  seek  another  home,  and,  perhaps,  not  find  it. 
Ah,  what  I  regret  is  that  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  will 
not'  keep  the  estate,  for  it  seems  that  it  is  she  who  will 
sell  it,  and  that  the  princess  did  not  wish  her  to  part 
from  it." 

«  Mon  Dieu!  Dupont,  you  do  not  surely  see  anything 
very  extraordinary  in  the  fact  of  Ma'amselle  Adrienne's 
desire  to  spend  some  of  her  large  fortune,  so  young  as 
she  is  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  thing  is  natural  enough ;  ma'amselle,  having 
neither' father  nor  mother,  is  her  own  mistress,  and  she 
has  a  cute  little  head  of  her  own.  Don't  you  remember 
ten  years  ago,  when  the  count,  her  father,  brought  her 
here  one  summer,  what  a  self-willed  young  lady  she  was  ? 
What  temper?  And  such  eyes!  —  hein,  how  they 
sparkled  and  shone  even  then !  " 

« 'Tis  truth  to  be  said,  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  had  a 
very  singular  expression  in  her  look  — very  strange  for 
her  age." 

"  If  she  has  grown  up  as  she  promised  to  do,  with  her 

286 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 

wild  and  animated  countenance,  she  must  be  very  hand- 
some now,  in  spite  of  the  rather  peculiar  hue  of  her 
hair;  for  between  ourselves,  if  she  was  a  little  shop-girl 
instead  of  a  damsel  of  high  birth,  everybody  would  say 
that  she  was  red-haired."  J 
"  For  shame  !    Again  something  ill-natured  " 
"  Of  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  ?   Heaven  forbid  '    For  she 
promised  to  be  as  good  as  she  was  handsome ;  and  it  is 
not  to  wrong  or  scandalise  her  that  I  should  call  her  red- 
haired.     On  the  contrary,  for  I  remember  that  her  locks 
were  so  fine,  so  bright,  so  golden,  and  suited  so  admir- 
ably her  snow-white  skin  and  black  eyes,  that  I  would 
not  have  had  them  altered  if  I  could.    Therefore  I  am 
sure  that  now  this  auburn  colour,  which  would  have 
been  detrimental  to  others,  will  render  Ma'amselle  Adri- 
enne s  hair  only  more  charming,  and  she  must  now  be 
a  real  wanton  little  sprite." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  she  was  always  full  of  tricks  and 
fun;  running  m  the  park,  teasing  her  governess,  climb- 
ing the  trees,  and  a  hundred  little  funny  ways  " 

"I  agree  that  there  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  was  a  verv 
little  devil  but  then  so  full  of  sense,  kindness,  and  so 
good-hearted !  " 

"She  was,  indeed.  Didn't  she  once  give  her  new 
shawl  and  merino  dress  to  a  poor  little  beggar-girl,  and 
then  returned  to  the  ch&teau  with  nothing  but  her  petti- 
coat on,  and  with  her  arms  bare  ? " 

"  Yes,  heart,  plenty  of  heart,' wife ;  but  her  head  — 
ah,  what  a  head  !  " 

"  Yes,  a  wild,  very  wild  head  ;  and  I  fear  it  may  lead 
her  lnt0  mischief ;  for  it  seems  that  in  Paris  she  does 
things  —  such  things  !  " 

"  What  things  ? " 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  I  dare  not  say." 

"  Come,  tell  away,  old  lady." 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  worthy  housewife,  with  a  sort 
ot  embarrassment  and   concern,  which  showed  how 

287 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


deeply  such  enormities  affected  her,  "  they  do  say  that 
Ma'amselle  Adrienne  never  sets  foot  in  church ;  that  she 
lives  all  alone  in  an  idolatrous  temple  at  the  end  of 
the  garden  of  her  aunt's  hotel ;  that  she  is  waited  on  by 
women  in  masks,  who  dress  her  up  like  a  goddess,  and 
she  scratches  them  all  day  long,  for  she  gets  tipsy,  and 
then  all  night  long  she  plays  on  a  hunting-horn  of  solid 
gold ;  and  all  this,  as  you  may  well  suppose,  is  most 
terribly  afflicting  and  annoying  to  her  poor  aunt  the 
princess." 

At  this  moment  the  steward  burst  out  into  so  loud 
a  fit  of  laughter  that  he  quite  interrupted  his  wife. 

«  Really  !  "  said  he,  when  he  had  finished  ;  "  and  who 
told  you  these  fine  facts  about  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  ? " 

"  Why,  Rene's  wife,  who  went  to  Paris  to  see  a  child 
she  had  weaned ;  and  when  she  called  at  the  Hotel  de 
Saint-Dizier  she  saw  Madame  Grivois,  her  godmother,  — 
she,  you  know,  is  first  femme-de-chamhre  to  the  princess. 
Well,  then,  this  Madame  Grivois  told  her  all  this,  and 
of  course  she  must  know  all  about  it  as  she  belongs  to 
the  household." 

"  Oh,  that  Grivois  is  a  nice  gossip  —  a  worthy  woman  ! 
Why,  not  long  ago  she  was  one  of  the  gayest  ladies  I 
ever  met  with  —  full  of  tricks;  and  now  she  is  like  her 
mistress,  so  pious  and  sanctimonious  !  Umph  !  Why,  she 
is  now  a  devotee !  Like  mistress,  like  maid.  And  the 
princess,  too,  —  she  who  is  now  so  stiff-starched  and  very 
correct,  —  why,  I  remember  the  time  when  she  used  to 
play  fine  pranks.  About  fifteen  years  ago  what  a  frolic- 
some miss  was  she !  You  remember  that  handsome 
hussar  colonel  who  was  quartered  at  Abbeville?  You 
must  remember  —  an  emigrant  who  had  served  in  Rus- 
sia, and  to  whom  the  Bourbons  gave  a  regiment  at  the 
Restoration  ! " 

"  Yes,  I  remember  very  well ;  but  there  you  go  again 
with  your  ill-natured  remarks  !  " 

«  Ma  foil  not  I,  — I  only  tell  the  truth.    The  colonel 

288 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 


spent  all  his  time  at  the  chateau,  and  the  world  said 
that  he  was  on  very  good  terms  with  her  holiness  — 
princess  of  to-day.  Ah,  what  a  time  we  had  of  it  then ! 
Every  evening,  plays  or  fetes  at  the  chateau.  What  a 
devil  —  what  a  rattler  that  colonel  was  !    How  well  he 

acted  !    I  recollect,  as  though  it  was  but  yesterday  " 

The  steward  was  cut  short  in  his  recollections  by  a 
stout  female  servant,  wearing  the  Picardy  costume  and 
cap,  who  came  into  the  room  in  a  hurry,  and  said  to  her 
mistress : 

"  Mistress,  there  is  some  gentleman  who  is  asking  for 
master;  he  has  just  come  from  St.  Valery  in  a  post- 
chaise,  and  he  says  his  name  is  M.  Rodin." 

"  M.  Rodin  !  "  said  the  steward ;  "  ask  him  in  instantly." 

A  minute  afterwards  M.  Rodin  entered.  He  was, 
according  to  custom,  more  than  humbly  dressed.  He 
made  a  low  bow  to  the  steward  and  his  wife,  who,  on  a 
sign  from  her  husband,  left  the  room.  The  cadaverous 
countenance  of  M.  Rodin,  his  almost  imperceptible  lips, 
his  small  reptile-like  and  half-closed  eyes,  nearly  covered 
by  the  placid  upper  lid,  and  his  clothes  almost  beggarly, 
combined  to  render  his  appearance  anything  but  prepos- 
sessing. Yet  this  man,  when  it  was  requisite  or  politic, 
knew  how,  by  a  devilish  skill,  to  assume  so  much  kind- 
ness and  sincerity,  to  make  his  phrases  so  agreeable  and 
so  insinuating,  that,  by  degrees,  the  disagreeable  and 
repulsive  effect  which  his  first  appearance  conveyed  was 
destroyed,  and  he  almost  always  succeeded  in  seizing 
his  dupe  or  victim  in  the  twisting  folds  of  his  hypocrisy 
by  the  aid  of  his  language,  which  was  as  apparently 
yielding  as  it  was  honeyed  and  treacherous.  It  is  said 
that  the  ugly  and  the  evil  have  their  fascination  as  well 
as  the  handsome  and  the  good. 

The  honest  steward  looked  at  this  individual  with 
surprise,  when  he  recollected  the  pressing  recommenda- 
tions of  the  intendant  of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier. 

289 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


He  expected  a  totally  different  personage,  and  could 
hardly  conceal  his  astonishment  when  he  said : 

"  I  have  the  honour  of  seeing  M.  Rodin  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  here  is  another  letter  from  the 
intendant  of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier." 

"Pray,  sir,  draw  near  the  fire  whilst  I  read  this 
letter.  The  weather  is  so  bad,"  said  the  steward,  with 
much  respect,  "  may  I  offer  you  anything  ?  " 

«  A  thousand  thanks,  my  dear  sir ;  I  leave  again  in 
an  hour." 

Whilst  M.  Dupont  was  reading,  M.  Rodin  cast  around 
him  a  scrutinising  glance  at  the  interior  of  the  room ; 
for,  like  a  skilful  man  of  the  world,  he  often  drew  his 
most  correct  and  useful  inferences  from  appearances, 
which  often  betray  the  taste  and  habits,  and  also  afford 
some  idea  of  character ;  but,  for  once,  his  sagacity  was 
at  fault. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  steward,  after  he  had  fin- 
ished the  letter  ;  "  the  intendant  renews  his  instructions 
that  I  will  place  myself  entirely  at  your  orders." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  give  you  but  very  little  trouble,  and  not 
detain  you  long." 

"  Sir,  it  is  an  honour." 

«  Mori  Dieul  I  know  how  fully  you  must  be  employed, 
for,  as  I  came  in,  I  was  struck  with  the  order  and 
perfect  arrangement  which  I  observed  everywhere,  —  a 
proof,  my  dear  sir,  of  the  regularity  and  care  which  you 
display." 

«  Sir  —  really  —  you  flatter  me." 

"  Flatter  you !  A  poor  old  man  like  me  does  not 
think  of  that ;  but,  to  business.  You  have  here  a  room 
which  is  called  the  Green  Chamber  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  it  is  the  apartment  which  the  late  Count- 
Duke  de  Cardoville  used  as  his  own  study." 

"  Have  the  kindness  to  conduct  me  to  it." 

"Unfortunately,  sir,  that  is  impossible.  After  the 
death  of  the  count,  and  when  the  seals  were  removed,  a 

290 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 


quantity  of  papers  were  shut  up  in  the  chamber  in  a 
cabinet,  and  the  lawyers  took  the  keys  away  with  them 
to  Paris." 

"The  keys!  Oh,  here  they  are!"  said  M.  Rodin, 
showing  the  steward  a  bunch,  on  which  was  a  large  key 
and  several  small  ones. 

"Ah,  sir,  that  alters  the  case.  You  want  some 
papers,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certain  papers,  and  a  small  wooden  casket  with 
silver  hinges  ;  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

" 1  do>  sir  5  I  have  often  seen  it  on  the  table  of  the 
count  when  he  was  writing,  and  it  must  be  in  the  large 
chma  cabinet,  of  which  you  have  the  key." 

"  Be  so  good,  then,  as  to  lead  me  thither,  as  I  have 
the  authority  of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  is  the  princess  quite  well  ? " 

"Perfectly;  she  is,  as  usual,  wholly  absorbed  in 
heavenly  things." 

"  And  Mile.  Adrienne  ? " 

"  Alas,  my  dear  sir !  "  said  M.  Rodin,  with  a  deep  and 
commiserating  sigh. 

"  Merciful  Heavens  !  What  can  you  mean  ?  Surely 
nothing  has  happened  to  that  excellent  young  lady  ? " 

"  You  do  not  understand  me." 

"  Is  she  ill  ?  Speak,  I  beseech  you,  and  terminate  my 
uneasiness.  J 

"  No  no,  she  is  well.  Unhappily,  her  health  is  only 
equalled  by  her  extreme  beauty." 

"Unhappily!"  repeated  the  registrar,  in  extreme 
amazement. 

"Too  truly  I  said  so,"  replied  Rodin;  "for  when 
youth,  beauty,  and  high  health  are  joined  to  a  perverse 
spirit,  and  a  bold,  reckless  disregard  of  all  that  is  wise 
and  good,  it  becomes  rather  a  source  of  regret  that  all 
these  personal  advantages,  so  dangerous  in  the  hands  of 

W^°',?r0bably'  has  not'  for  ™lence  of  conduct  and 
unbridled  humours,  her  equal  upon  earth,  should  probably 

291 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


lead  but  to  perdition.  But  let  me  pray  of  you,  my  dear 
sir,  to  speak  of  other  things,  —  the  subject  is  too  painful 
for  me,"  added  M.  Rodin,  in  a  voice  of  deep  emotion, 
and  wiping  the  corner  of  his  right  eye  with  the  tip  of 
the  little  finger  of  his  left  hand,  as  though  anxious  to 
conceal  the  tear  that  had  gathered  there. 

The  registrar  did  not  perceive  the  tear,  but  he  saw  the 
action,  and  was  much  struck  with  the  alteration  in  M. 
Rodin's  voice ;  he  therefore  replied,  in  a  tone  of  sympa- 
thising regret,  "  I  have  been  thoughtless  enough  to  dis- 
tress you,  I  fear,  —  let  me  crave  your  pardon  for  my 
inadvertence  ;  I  was  not  aware  —  " 

"  Nay,  my  good  friend,  it  is  rather  for  me  to  ask  you 
to  excuse  this  involuntary  weakness,  —  tears  are  rare 
visitors  at  my  age ;  but  had  you  seen,  as  I  did,  the 
despair  of  that  excellent  princess,  whose  only  fault  has 
been  that  of  being  too  indulgent  —  perhaps  weakly  so 
—  to  her  niece  ;  and  so  to  have  encouraged  her  in  her  — 
But,  again,  let  me  beg  we  may  change  the  subject  of  our 
discourse,  my  very  dear  sir." 

After  a  momentary  silence,  during  which  M.  Rodin 
appeared  struggling  to  regain  his  usual  calmness,  he  said 
to  M.  Dupont : 

"  As  far  as  regards  the  Green  Chamber,  then,  my  dear 
sir.  one  part  of  my  mission  is  fulfilled ;  there  is  still 
another  matter  to  talk  over  with  you,  and,  before  I  com- 
mence it,  I  must  recall  to  your  memory  a  circumstance 
you  may  probably  have  forgotten,  —  the  fact  of  a  Mar- 
quis d'Aigrigny,  then  a  colonel  of  hussars  quartered  at 
Abbeville,  having,  about  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  since, 
passed  some  time  here." 

"  Ah,  I  recollect  him  well,"  answered  Dupont ;  "a 
fine,  soldierly,  gentlemanlike  man  as  you  would  see  in 
a  thousand.  I  was  talking  of  him  to  my  wife  a  very 
little  while  ago ;  he  was  the  very  life  and  soul  of  the 
chateau ;  and  such  a  clever  actor !  He  always  played 
the  wild,  rollicking  characters,  in  all  the  private  theatric- 

292 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 


als  with  which  the  company  used  to  amuse  themselves. 
I  think  I  see  him  in  the  <  Two  Edmonds.'  He  used  to 
play  the  part  of  the  drunken  soldier  admirably !  And 
what  a  voice  he  had!  When  he  sang  the  music  of 
Joconde  you  might  have  heard  a  fly  move  its  wings; 
everybody  said  there  was  not  such  a  singer  in  Paris."' 
Rodin,  after  complacently  listening  to  the  registrar 
proceeded: 

"  You  know,  doubtless,  that  after  a  terrible  duel  with 
a  violent  Buonapartist,  named  General  Simon,  the  Mar- 
quis d'Aigrigny  (whose  private  secretary  I  have  now  the 
honour  of  being)  determined  upon  forsaking  the  world, 
and  devoting  himself  to  the  church  ? " 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  What  a  sacrifice !  So  brave  a 
soldier ! " 

"  Yes,  this  brave  soldier,  so  rich,  so  noble,  so  justly 
esteemed  and  everywhere  sought  after,  resigned  all  these 
advantages  to  assume  a  humble  black  robe  ;  and  spite  of 
his  name,  his  rank,  his  high  family  connections  and 
influence,  combined  with  his  reputation  and  eloquence 
as  the  first  preacher  of  the  day,  he  is  just  what  he  was 
fourteen  years  ago,  — a  simple  abbe,  instead  of  being 
an  archbishop  or  a  cardinal,  as  many  are  who  do  not 
possess  either  his  merits  or  virtues." 

M.  Rodin  said  this  in  so  natural  and  unaffected  a 
manner,  expressive  of  his  own  entire  conviction  of  the 
truth  and  justice  of  all  he  asserted,  that  M.  Dupont 
involuntarily  exclaimed : 

"What  a  fine,  what   a   noble   picture   you  have 
drawn ! " 

"  Nay,"  answered  M.  Rodin,  with  a  well-assumed  air 
ot  ingenuousness,  «  nay,  my  dear  friend,  you  overrate  it ; 
to  a  heart  like  that  of  M.  d'Aigrigny,  such  conduct 
was  the  mere  simple  dictate  of  his  excellent  nature.  But 
among  his  many  fine  qualities,  he  particularly  possessed 
that  of  never  overlooking  merit  in  others,  or  of  allowing 
men  of  honour,  probity,  and  conscientious  discharge  of 

293 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


duty  to  go  unrewarded.     Thus,  therefore,  my  worthy 
M.  Dupont,  he  has  not  failed  to  think  of  you." 

"  Is  it  possible   M.  le  Marquis  has  condescended 
to  —  " 

"  Only  three  days  since  I  received  a  letter  from  him, 
in  which  you  were  particularly  mentioned." 
"  He  is,  then,  in  Paris  ? " 

"  He  is  shortly  expected  to  arrive  there.  About  three 
months  ago  he  set  out  for  Italy ;  during  the  journey,  he 
received  the  afflicting  intelligence  of  the  death  of  his 
mother,  who  had  gone  to  pass  the  autumn  at  one  of  the 
estates  belonging  to  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier." 

"  Indeed  !    I  was  not  aware  of  that." 

"Yes,  indeed;  the  blow  fell  on  him  with  a  crush- 
ing weight,  for  he  was  most  tenderly  attached  to  his 
parent.  But  we  must  all  resign  ourselves  to  the  will 
of  Providence." 

"  And  may  I  be  permitted  to  inquire  what  it  was  M. 
le  Marquis  did  me  the  honour  to  say  in  his  letter 
respecting  me?" 

"T  am  about  to  inform  you  :  In  the  first  place,  you 
must  know  this  chateau  is  sold;  the  agreement  was 
signed  the  evening  previous  to  my  quitting  Paris." 

"  Ah,  now  you  renew  all  my  fears." 

"  As  regards  what  ?  " 

"Why,  you  see,  I  am  fearful  the  new  proprietor 
may  not  choose  to  continue  me  in  my  present  office 
of  registrar." 

"  Really,  this  is  a  fortunate  coincidence ;  for  it  was 
precisely  respecting  your  situation  I  wished  to  speak 
with  you." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  and  knowing  full  well  the  interest  the 
marquis  takes  in  you,  I  am  most  anxious,  most  desirous 
for  you  to  retain  your  employment,  and  I  will  do  all  and 
everything  in  my  power  to  effect  so  desirable  an  end, 
if  —  " 

294 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 

"  Ah,  my  kind  friend  and  benefactor,"  exclaimed 
Dupont,  interrupting  Rodin  ;  «  what  thanks  do  I  not  owe 
you !    Heaven  has  surely  sent  you  to  my  assistance." 

"  Nay,  now  you  natter  me,  my  worthy  M.  Dupont ; 
and  I  fear  you  will  think  less  of  my  zeal  to  serve  you 
when  you  find  I  am  compelled  to  attach  certain  condi- 
tions to  the  service  I  propose  to  render  you." 

"  Oh,  if  that  be  all,  let  me  beseech  you,  sir,  speak, 
—  say  what  you  wish  me  to  do ;  you  will  find  me  all 
obedience." 

"  The  new  occupant  of  the  chateau  is  an  elderly  lady 
worthy  of  the  highest  consideration  and  respect.  Madame 
de  la  Samte-Colombe  is  the  name  of  this  excellent  lady  " 

"  Bless  me !  "  cried  the  steward,  suddenly  breaking  in 
upon  Rodin's  eulogium  on  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  ■ 

"  ^  XJ  P°sslble  that  the  lad^  who  has  bo"ght  the  chateau' 
and  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe,  are  the  same  ? " 

"  You  are  acquainted  with  her,  then  ? " 

"Why,  sir,  about  a  week  ago  she  came  here  to  look 
at  the  estate.  My  wife  insists  upon  it  she  is  a  great 
lady;  but  between  ourselves,  from  certain  words  she 
let  fall  —  " 

"Ah,  you  are  an  accurate  observer,  I  see,  my  worthy 
M.  dupont;  your  opinion  evinces  your  correct  penetra- 
tion Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  is  not  what  may 
be  styled  a  lady,  either  by  birth  or  education.  The  fact 
is,  1  rather  belie  ye  she  was  formerly  neither  more  nor 
less  than  a  milliner  in  the  Palais  Royal.  You  see  I  use 
no  reserve  with  you,  my  excellent  friend." 

"And  that,  I  suppose,  was  what  she  meant  when  she 
talked  of  the  numerous  French  and  foreign  noblemen 
who  were  m  the  habit  of  frequenting  her  house  " 

"  Most  likely,  when  sent  by  their  wives  to  order  hats 
and  caps,  etc  However,  one  thing  is  very  certain,  that 
she  continued  to  amass  a  large  property,  and  having 
been  m  her  youth,  as  well  as  more  mature  age,  indiffer- 
ent-alas!  more  than  indifferent  -  to  the  well-being  of 

295 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


her  soul,  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  is  now  bent 
upon  following  out  a  most  praiseworthy  and  excellent 
course  of  life,  and  it  is  this  very  resolution  which  renders 
her,  as  I  said  just  now,  worthy  of  universal  respect  and 
veneration  ;  for  what  is  more  calculated  to  deserve  it 
than  a  hearty  and  sincere  forsaking  of  all  evil  ways,  and 
a  clinging  to  that  which  is  good  ?  But  that  the  repent- 
ance of  this  lady  may  be  lasting,  and  her  eternal  welfare 
effectually  secured,  we  must  have  your  cooperation,  my 
worthy  friend." 

"And  in  what  manner  can  I  possibly  assist  the 

work  ? " 

"You  may  do  much;  and  in  this  manner,  for  ex- 
ample. You  have  no  church  in  this  hamlet,  which  is 
situated  at  equal  distances  between  its  two  adjacent 
villages.  Well,  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe,  being 
naturally  anxious  to  choose  between  the  two  ministers 
belonging  to  these  churches,  and  aware  that  yourself 
and  Madame  Dupont  have  long  inhabited  this  part  of 
the  country,  will  be  sure  to  inquire  of  you  or  your  wife 
the  respective  merits  of  the  different  clergymen." 

«  Oh,  then,  we  shall  not  be  long  in  answering  that 
question ;  the  cure*  of  Danicourt  is  one  of  the  best  men 
breathing." 

"  And  that  very  piece  of  information  is  precisely  what 
you  must  conceal  from  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe." 
"  You  amaze  me  !  " 

"On  the  contrary,  you  must  boast  to  her,  day  and 
night,  of  the  surpassing  virtues  and  goodness  of  the  cure* 
of  the  other  parish,  M.  de  Roiville,  in  order  that  this 
dear  lady  may  be  induced  to  confide  to  him  the  salvation 
of  her  immortal  soul." 

"  And  why  must  this  preference  be  accorded  ? " 

"For  a  very  good  and  sufficient  reason.  If  you  or 
your  wife  —  no  matter  which  —  can  induce  Madame  de 
la  Sainte-Colombe  to  choose  as  I  wish  her  to  do,  you 
may  rely  upon  being  continued  in  your  present  office  of 

296 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 

steward  ;  to  that  I  pledge  my  honour,  and,  what  I  once 
promise,  I  never  fail  to  perform." 

"  I  doubt  not,  monsieur,  your  having  the  full  power 
to  continue  me  in  my  present  situation,"  said  Dupont, 
perfectly  convinced  by  the  tone  and  look  of  authority 
assumed  by  Rodin  of  his  being  quite  in  earnest;  «  but  I 
should  much  wish  to  know  " 

"  One  word  more,"  said  Rodin,  interrupting  him  « It 
is  but  right,  and  I  am  quite  willing  to  explain  to  you 
why  I  so  particularly  insist  upon  your  aiding  me  in 
leading  the  new  owner  of  the  chateau  to  prefer  one 
cure  to  another.  I  should  be  deeply  grieved,  indeed,  to 
allow  you  to  fancy  even  the  shadow  of  an  interested 
motive  existed,  when  my  only  reason  is  a  desire  to  per- 
form a  good  and  charitable  action.  The  cure  of  Roiville 

faiwTfl  a+mrKcit0US  °f  Procu™g  your  kind  offices^ 
is,  in  the  first  place,  a  person  in  whose  welfare  M.  PAbbe 
dAigrigny  takes  a  lively  interest;  then,  as  a  second 
reason  I  would  urge  his  having  an  aged  mother  entirely 

that,  were  he  entrusted  with  the  spiritual  guidance  of 
Madame  de  la  Samte-Colombe,  he  would  be  enabled  to 
effect  a  more  decided  improvement  than  any  other  person 

if  t°Z£  Wlth  Patience  and  zeaI-  An«  then,  as,  in 
all  probability,  so  wealthy  a  penitent  as  Madame  de  la 
Samte-Colombe  would,  from  time  to  time,  evince  her 
grateful  conviction  of  his  valuable  exertions  in  her  behalf 

riches  i^T™1  offering  of  ™  of  her  superfluous 
riches,  it  follows  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  the  poor 
mother  would  profit  by  the  circumstance.    And  so  you 

see  my  excellent  friend,  the  whole  history  of  this  great 
mach  at      which  gQ  deeply  surpriged  ^        J  ^ 

W Thp7  ♦  f ame,™  of  thi«  ^dy's  intention  of  buy- 
ing the  estate  contiguous  to  the  parish  of  our  protesre  I 
wrote  to  apprise  M.  le  Marquis  of  it;  and  he! immedi- 
ately recollecting  yon,  replied  to  the  information  by 
despatching  a  most  kind  letter,  in  which  he  spoke  in 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


the  highest  terms  of  your  zeal  and  ability,  requesting  me 
to  solicit  of  you  the  trifling  favour  I  have  just  named, 
and  which,  as  you  perceive,  it  is  so  much  to  your  interest 
to  grant;  for  I  repeat  — and  I  will  prove  my  words  — 
that  it  rests  entirely  with  me  to  continue  you  as  land- 
steward,  or  to  nominate  another  in  your  place." 

"Permit  me  to  observe,"  said  Pupont,  after  a  few 
moments'  reflection,  — "  and  you  are  so  candid  and 
polite  that  I  fear  not  to  offend  you  by  adopting  a  similar 
candour,  —  in  proportion  as  the  cure"  of  Danicourt  is 
beloved  and  respected  throughout  the  country,  so  is  M. 
le  Cure  of  Roiville,  to  whom  it  is  your  wish  to  give  the 
preference,  disliked  and  dreaded  for  his  bigoted  and 
intolerant  spirit.    And,  besides  —  " 

«  Go  on." 

"  People  do  say  —  " 

«  Well,  what  do  they  say  ?    Let  us  hear." 

"  It  is  generally  reported,  and  almost  universally  be- 
lieved, he  is  —  a  Jesuit !  " 

At  these  words  M.  Rodin  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter, 
so  natural  and  hearty  that  the  poor  steward  was  riveted 
to  the  spot  with  astonishment  at  mirth  so  unusual  with 
M.  Rodin,  and  also  with  the  singularly  sinister  look  ex- 
pressed on  his  countenance,  even  while  his  features  were 
convulsed  with  irrepressible  laughter. 

"  A  Jesuit ! "  repeated  M.  Rodin,  whose  hilarity  seemed 
to  increase  at  the  very  idea  of  anything  so  ridiculous 
being  urged  against  any  man.  "A  Jesuit!  Ha,  ha, 
ha!  My  dear  M.  Dupont,  you  must  excuse  me;  but 
how  is  it  possible  a  person  of  your  good  sense,  intel- 
ligence, and  knowledge  of  the  world  can  listen  to  such 
exceeding  nonsense  ?  A  Jesuit !  Are  there  such  things 
nowadays,  do  you  believe  ?  Can  you  really  put  faith  m 
these  absurd  Jacobinical  tales  — these  hobgoblins  of  de- 
cayed liberalism  ?  I'll  wager  you  what  you  please  that 
you  have  been  reading  all  these  4  raw-head-and-bloody- 
bone '  stories  in  the  Constitutionel." 

298 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 
"  Still,  sir,  folks  say  —  " 

"Say!  Why,  what  is  there  that  idle,  gossiping,  mis- 
chief-making  people  will  not  say  ?  But  wise  and  en- 
lightened men  such  as  yourself,  never  listen  to  the 
floating  scandal,  always  prefaced  as  what  persons  say; 
they  busy  themselves  only  with  their  own  affairs,  and  do 
not  sacrifice  to  a  love  of  silly  tattling  an  excellent  situa- 
tion which  will  ensure  them  comfort  and  independence 
for  life;  for  I .fell  you  candidly  that,  unless  you  pledge 
yourself  to  obtain  for  my  protege'  the  preference  I  desire 
as  regards  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe,  I  shall  be 
obliged,  though  with  regret,  to  appoint  your  successor 
as  land-steward  here  without  delay." 

"But  — but,  sir!"  exclaimed  poor  Dupont;  «  surelv 
you  will  not  consider  me  to  blame  if  the  lady,  hearing 
the  other  cure  everywhere  extolled  and  eulogised,  should 
prefer  him  to  the  one  you  wish  me  to  recommend?" 

Of  course  not ;  but  that  will  not  occur.  On  the  con- 
trary, Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe,  hearing  the  cure 
of  Roiville  the  constant  theme  of  praise  and  panegyric 
by  people  of  long  standing  and  good  reputation  in  the 
place  -like  you  and  your  wife,  for  instance,  whom  she 
will  daily  and  hourly  be  in  the  habit  of  mixing  with,— 
and  then  hearing  from  the  same  individuals  the  most 
tearful  and  atrocious  character  of  the  minister  of  Dani- 
court,  will  infallibly  prefer  my  protege,  and  you  will 
remain  land-steward  for  the  rest  of  vour  days  " 

"  How  can  I  calumniate  an  innocent  man  ? "  exclaimed 
Dupont,  thoroughly  bewildered  in  the  midst  of  this  fresh 
mental  difficulty.  "  How  can  I  utter  falsehoods  against 
one  so  good,  so  amiable  ?  "  8 

«  My  dear  M.  Dupont,"  returned  M.  Rodin,  with  an  air 
of  painful  reproach,  "  I  trust  you  do  not  so  far  mis- 
understand me  as  to  suppose  I  am  urging  you  to  do 
anything  against  your  conscience.  I  was  merely  putting 
a  simple  case  before  you,  -  a  plain  supposition  You 
are  anxious  to  be  retained  in  your  present  situation,  and 


299 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


I  merely  pointed  out  a  certain  means  of  obtaining  your 
wish     I  offered  no  advice  in  the  matter ;  it  is  for  you 
to  decide  as  to  its  being  a  chance  to  accept  or  refuse; 
pray  let  that  be  understood." 
"But,  M.  Rodin  —  " 

«  One  word  more ;  or,  rather  one  condition  more, 
which,  indeed,  is  of  greater  importance  than  the  other. 
Unfortunately,  the  ministers  of  our  holy  religion  are  but 
too  frequently  known  to  take  advantage  of  the  weakness 
of  mind  and  character  of  their  penitents,  and  to  turn 
their  very  distaste  for  worldly  possessions  either  to  their 
own  account  or  that  of  others.    Now,  though  I  believe 
our  protege  wholly  incapable  of  conduct  so  base,  yet,  to 
effectually  guard  my  own  responsibility,  and,  indeed, 
yours  also, -you having  all  the  merit  of  introducing  the 
spiritual  adviser  of  Madame  de  la  Samte-Colombe,  —  I 
could  wish  you  to  write  me,  twice  in  each  week,  a  full 
and  minute  detail  of  all  you  see,  hear,  or  observe  in  the 
conduct,  character,  and  habits  of  Madame  de  la  Samte- 
Colombe,  even  the  books  she  reads,  etc.,  etc. ;  tor  it  is  m 
these  daily  mirmtice  the  influence  of  a  spiritual  director 
is  most  clearly  traced,  and  I  wish  to  be  perfectly  satisfied 
as  to  the  conscientious  manner  in  which  my  protege  per- 
forms his  duty,  without  his  being  at  all  aware  of  it.  bo 
that  if  it  occurred  to  you  that  anything  at  all  blamable 
were  going  on,  I  should  be  immediately  apprised  of  it 
through  your  weekly  journal,  which,  I  must  impress  upon 
you,  should  be  most  exact  and  circumstantial,  even  to 
the  very  most  trifling  detail." 

«  But  surely,  sir,"  remonstrated  the  unfortunate  stew- 
ard, "  this  is  positive  espionage ! " 

"  Come,  come,  my  dear  M.  Dupont,I  cannot  allow  you 
to  bestow  so  injurious  an  appellation  on  one  of  the  most 
soothing  blessings  of  life.  Confidence !  Confidence  my 
friend  !  I  ask  you  not  to  become  a  spy  —  I  start  at  the 
word  with  the  same  horror  and  disgust  you  do.  I  but  ask 
you  in  strict  confidence,  remember  to  write  me  from  day 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 

to  day  all  that  passes  here,  even  to  the  most  minute 
details.  On  these  two  conditions,  which  cannot  be  sepa- 
rated from  each  other,  you  remain,  as  you  now  are,  land- 
steward  to  this  estate.  Otherwise,  with  deep  regret,  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  appoint  another  to  serve  Madame  de 
la  Sainte-Colombe." 

"Ah,  sir,"  cried  Dupont,  trembling  with  emotion, 
"  1  conjure  you  to  be  generous,  without  imposing  these 
hard  conditions.  This  situation  is  the  sole  maintenance 
of  myself  and  wife,  and  we  are  now  too  old  to  seek  a 
fresh  one ;  do  not,  therefore,  allow  the  probity  of  forty 
years'  standing  to  struggle  against  the  horrors  of  want 
and  misery,  lest  I  sink  under  the  temptation." 

"My  very  good  friend,  you  really  talk  like  a  mere 
child ;  pray  show  more  good  sense.  By  this  day  week 
you  will  have  the  goodness  to  let  me  have  your  ultimate 
decision." 

"  0h>  P%  us !  1  beseech  you  not  to  leave  me  so  sore 
a  temptation  to  contend  with.    Pray,  pray  pity  us !  " 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  a  violent 
noise,  reechoed  by  the  surrounding  heights. 

"  What  can  that  be  ?"  inquired  M.  Rodin. 

Scarcely  had  he  spoken  the  words  than  the  same  noise 
was  repeated,  with  even  an  increased  loudness. 

"  Guns  are  firing!  "  said  Dupont,  hastily  rising  from 
his  seat  «  Probably  some  vessel  is  in  distress,  or  requires 
a  pilot.  ^ 

"  Husband !  "  exclaimed  the  steward's  wife,  as  she 
hastily  entered  the  apartment,  «  you  may  see  from  the 
terrace  a  steam-vessel  and  a  ship  out  at  sea,  almost 
entirely  dismasted ;  the  waves  are  bringing  them  rapidly 
on  to  this  coast.  The  three-masted  ship  hred  the  siffnal- 
guns  you  heard  just  now.  Oh,  they  must  perish  I  There 
is  not  the  slightest  hope  of  escape." 

«  Dreadful !  "  cried  M.  Dupont,  taking  his  hat  and  pre- 
paring to  go  out;  "and  to  think  we  can  only  look  on 
and  behold  our  fellow  creatures  perish  ! " 

301 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Are  there  no  means  of  succouring  these  unfortunate 
vessels?"  inquired  M.  Rodin. 

"  Alas,  none  !  Should  they  be  once  drawn  on  these 
rocks,  once  caught  among  the  breakers,  no  human  power 
can  avert  their  fate.  Since  the  commencement  of  the 
equinox  two  vessels  have  already  gone  to  pieces  on  this 
coast." 

"  And  to  lose  not  only  their  lives,  but  all  the  valuables 
they  have  on  board !  "  exclaimed  M.  Rodin.  "  It  is, 
indeed,  most  melancholy  I  " 

«  With  such  a  tempest  as  at  present  rages,"  said  the 
steward,  addressing  his  wife,  "I  fear  the  chances  of 
saving  the  passengers  are  very  slight.  Nevertheless,  I 
will  do  what  I  can ;  I  will  take  all  the  farm-people  out 
with  me,  and  place  them  in  different  parts  of  the  cliffs, 
so  as  to  afford  a  probability  of  aiding  any  unfortunate 
beings  who  may  be  washed  ashore.  Do  you  light  large 
fires  in  every  room  ;  get  dry  linen  and  garments  ready  ; 
prepare  warm  cordials  and  restoratives^  I  dare  not 
hope  to  save  the  poor  souls,  but  at  least  it  shall  not  be 
for  want  of  trying.  Will  you  accompany  me,  M.  Rodin  ?  " 

« I  should  esteem  it  a  sacred  duty  to  do  so,"  replied 
M.  Rodin,  who  felt  no  inclination  to  expose  himself ^  to 
the  fury  of  the  storm,  «  could  I  entertain  a  hope  of  being 
in  any  way  serviceable  ;  but  at  my  age,  unfortunately, 
good-will  is  all  that  is  left  me,  for  my  strength  no  longer 
seconds  it.  If,  therefore,  your  amiable  wife  will  direct 
me  to  the  Green  Chamber,  I  will  take  from  it  the  various 
articles  I  came  to  fetch  away,  and  then  immediately 
return  to  Paris,  for  I  am  already  much  pressed  for 
time." 

"  As  you  please,  sir ;  Catherine  will  conduct  you  to 
the  apartment  you  desire." 

"  And  you,"  added  the  steward,  speaking  to  the  ser- 
vant who  stood  by,  "go  and  ring  the  alarm-bell  as 
loudly  as  you  can,  and  bid  the  people  on  the  farm  come 
to  me  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  with  ropes  and  pulleys." 

302 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. 

"  Dear  husband  ! "  said  the  steward's  wife,  alarmed 
for  his  safety,  "  let  me  conjure  you  to  be  careful." 

"  Never  fear,  my  kind  Catherine ;  I  will  be  cautious 
for  your  sake.  Now,  one  kiss  to  bring  me  luck,  and  I 
am  gone,"  returned  the  old  man,  who  then  ran  hastily 
out  of  the  room,  saying : 

"Quick,  quick!  By  this  time  there  probably  does 
not  remain  a  single  plank  of  either  of  these  unfortunate 
vessels." 

"  My  dear  madame,"  said  the  immovable  Rodin,  "  may 
I  ask  you  to  conduct  me,  without  further  delay,  to  the 
Green  Chamber.  I  really  am  losing  very  precious  time." 

"Please  to  follow  me,  sir,"  said  poor  Catherine, 
drying  the  tears  which  filled  her  eyes  at  the  thoughts 
of  her  husband's  danger,  with  whose  dauntless  spirit 
and  unflinching  courage  she  was  too  well  acquainted  not 
to  fear  he  would  peril  a  life  so  dear  to  her. 


303 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE  TEMPEST. 

The  sea  was  a  fearful  sight  to  contemplate. 

Enormous  waves  of  dark  green  hue,  crested  with  a 
white  foam,  marked  their  rise  and  fall,  by  turns  high 
and  deep,  against  a  broad  streak  of  red  light  which 
overspread  the  horizon. 

Above  that  were  piled  huge  masses  of  deep  black 
clouds,  and,  driven  rapidly  forward  by  the  violence  of 
the  wind,  a  quantity  of  light  clouds  of  a  reddish  gray 
hurried  over  the  lowering  sky. 

The  pale  winter's  sun,  before  it  was  obscured  in  the 
midst  of  the  heavy  clouds  behind  which  it  was  slowly 
rising,  threw  a  few  cold  gleams  on  the  raging  billows, 
and  lighted  up  here  and  there  the  foaming  crests  of  the 
highest  waves. 

A  belt  of  snow-white  foam  boiled  and  dashed  furiously, 
until  it  was  lost  in  the  distance  on  the  reefs  with  which 
this  rocky  and  dangerous  coast  is  studded. 

In  the  distance,  half-way  up  a  rocky  promontory 
which  ran  a  long  way  into  the  sea,  was  the  Chateau  de 
Cardoville.  Its  glass  windows  shone  in  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  and  its  brick  walls  and  slated  and  pointed  roof 
stood  out  in  bold  relief  in  the  midst  of  the  vapoury  sky. 

A  large  ship  in  distress,  which  had  nothing  left  but 
fragments  of  her  sails  fastened  to  the  stumps  of  her 
masts,  was  driving  fast  towards  the  shore. 

Now  it  dived  down  into  the  depths  of  the  yawning 

304 


THE  TEMPEST. 


waves,  and  now  it  rose  again  on  the  summit  of  the 
chafing  waters. 

A  light  is  seen,  followed  by  a  dark  sound,  hardly  to 
be  heard  amidst  the  roar  of  the  tempest.  It  was  a  gun, 
—  the  last  signal  of  distress  of  this  vessel  which,  in 
spite  of  all  that  could  be  done,  must  be  lost  and  dashed 
to  pieces  on  the  iron-bound  coast. 

At  this  moment  a  steamboat,  with  her  stream  of 
black  smoke  above  her,  coming  from  the  east  and  going 
westward,  was  making  every  effort  to  clear  off  from  the 
coast  and  leave  the  reefs  on  her  lee. 

The  dismasted  ship,  according  to  the  direction  in 
which  she  was  driving,  must  of  necessity  pass  before 
the  steamer  in  her  fatal  course  towards  the  rocks,  on 
which  wind  and  tide  impelled  her. 

In  a  moment  a  violent  blast  of  wind  took  the  steam- 
ship on  the  weather-bow,  and  a  mountainous  wave 
dashed  furiously  over  the  deck ;  and  in  a  moment  the 
chimney  was  washed  away,  the  paddle-box  broken,  and 
one  of  the  wheels  utterly  destroyed.  A  second  wave 
dashing  over  the  stern  threw  the  vessel  quite  out  of  her 
course;  and  so  much  damage  was  done,  that  she  no 
longer  answered  helm,  but  drove  rapidly  towards  the 
shore  in  the  same  direction  as  the  three-master. 

The  latter,  although  farther  off  from  the  reefs,  yet 
offering  to  the  wind  and  waves  a  larger  surface  than 
the  steam-vessel,  drove  along  quicker  in  their  common 
track,  and  they  soon  came  so  near  together  that  there 
was  every  dread  that  the  two  ships  must  come  in  colli- 
sion, —  a  new  danger  to  be  added  to  the  horrors  of  the 
now  certain  shipwreck. 

The  three-masted  ship  was  English,  and  called  the 
Black  Eagle.  She  had  come  from  Alexandria  with 
the  passengers  who  had  arrived  from  India  and  Java 
by  the  Red  Sea,  on  board  of  the  steamboat,  the  Buyter, 
and  left  that  vessel  to  cross  the  Isthmus  of  Suez.  The 
Black  Eagle,  on  leaving  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar,  had 

305 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


touched  at  the  Azores,  whence  it  sailed  direct,  and  was 
beating  up  for  Portsmouth  when  it  was  struck  by  a  gale 
from  the  northeast,  which  is  so  prevalent  in  the  channel. 

The  steamer  was  the  William  Tell,  coming  from 
Germany  by  the  Elbe,  and  having  left  Hamburg  it  was 
making  for  Havre. 

These  two  vessels,  the  sport  of  the  mighty  waves, 
driven  by  the  tempest  and  drawn  by  the  tide,  were 
running  on  to  the  reefs  with  fearful  rapidity. 

The  deck  of  both  ships  presented  a  terrible  sight. 
The  death  of  all  the  passengers  seemed  certain,  for  a 
tremendous  sea  was  dashing  against  the  deep  rocks  at 
the  foot  of  a  precipitous  cliff. 

The  captain  of  the  Black  Eagle  was  standing  erect  at 
the  stern,  holding  on  by  a  part  of  the  broken  mast ;  and, 
even  in  this  extremity,  gave  his  orders  with  calmness 
and  decision.  The  boats  had  all  been  washed  overboard, 
except  a  skiff,  which  it  was  impossible  to  make  use  of ; 
and  the  only  chance  of  safety,  in  case  the  ship  did  not 
go  to  pieces  the  moment  she  went  on  the  reefs,  was  to 
establish,  by  means  of  a  cable  from  the  rocks,  a  sort  of 
"  go-and-come "  —  a  communication,  which  is  full  of 
hazard,  between  the  shore  and  the  wreck  of  a  ship. 

The  deck  was  covered  with  passengers,  whose  cries 
and  alarm  increased  the  universal  confusion.  Some, 
stupefied  with  terror,  clung  to  the  shrouds  and  ratlines, 
awaiting  death  in  a  state  of  insensibility ;  others  wrung 
their  hands  in  despair,  or  rolled  themselves  on  the  deck, 
uttering  fierce  imprecations. 

Here  were  women  on  their  knees  at  prayer,  whilst 
others  hid  their  faces  in  their  hands,  as  though  to  hide 
death  from  their  gaze.  A  young  mother,  as  pale  as  a 
ghost,  holding  her  infant  closely  pressed  against  her 
bosom,  went  from  one  sailor  to  another,  beseeching  them, 
and  offering  a  purse  full  of  gold  and  gems,  if  they  will 
but  save  her  child. 

These  cries,  fears,  and  tears,  contrasted  with  the  silent 

306 


THE  TEMPEST. 


and  gloomy  resignation  of  the  sailors,  some  Of  whom 
seeing  death  staring  them  in  the  face,  took  off  a  portion 
ol  their  clothing,  resolved  to  try  at  the  last  moment,  by 
a  last  vigorous  effort,  to  save  their  lives  by  buffeting 
with  the  waves;  others,  renouncing  all  hope,  braved 
death  with  a  stoical  indifference. 

Here  and  there  touching  or  terrible  episodes  were 
seen,  having  their  rise  in  deep  and  sad  despair. 

•  AiJ°Tg  man'  °f  ei^hteen  or  twenty  years  of  age,  with 
jet  black  hair  and  eyes  and  a  bronzed  complexion,  with 
ieatures  of  perfect  and  most  beautiful  regularity,  gazed 
on  this  scene  of  desolation  and  terror  with  that  calm 
resignation  which  is  peculiar  to  those  who  have  often 
braved  great  perils.    Wrapped  in  a  cloak,  with  his  back 
leaning  against  the  netting  of  the  bulwarks,  he  main- 
tained himself  in  his  position  by  placing  his  feet  against 
the  side  of  the  cabin  bulkhead.    At  this  moment  the 
unhappy  mother,  who,  with  her  child  in  her  arms  and 
gold  m  her  hand,  had  in  vain  addressed  herself  to  the 
sailors,  entreating  them  to  preserve  her  child,  seeing  the 
young  man  with  the  dark  complexion,  threw  herself  at 
his  feet,  and  held  up  her  child  before  him  in  an  attitude 
of  inexpressible  anguish.    The  young  man  looked,  shook 
his  head  mournfully,  and  pointed  to  the  furious  waters, 
but,  with  an  expressive  gesture,  seemed  to  promise  the 
despairing  mother  that  he  would  save  the  infant  if  pos- 
sible;  and  then  she,  with  intense  agony  of  joy,  bathed 
his  dark  hands  with  her  bitter  but  grateful  tears. 

On  another  part  of  the  deck  of  the  Black  Eagle  was  a 
passenger  who  appeared  animated  by  the  most  active 
pity. 

He  was  hardly  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and  long  and 
curling  light  hair  waved  around  his  attractive  features. 
He  wore  a  black  cassock  and  white  band.  Going  to  the 
most  despairing,  and  from  one  to  the  other,  he  gave  them 
words  of  pious  hope  and  resignation ;  and  to  have  heard 
Him  console  some,  encourage  others,  in  language  full  of 

307 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


zeal,  tenderness,  and  perfect  charity,  he  might  have  been 
supposed  unaware  or  regardless  of  the  perils  he  par- 
ticipated. 

In  this  beautiful  and  mild  face  might  be  seen  cool  and 
holy  intrepidity,  a  religious  abstraction  from  all  earthly 
thoughts,  as,  from  time  to  time,  he  raised  his  full  blue 
eyes,  beaming  with  gratitude,  love,  and  composure,  as 
though  humbly  thanking  God  for  having  placed  him  in 
one  of  those  formidable  positions  of  trial  in  which  a  man 
of  high- wrought  feeling  and  courage  can  devote  himself 
for  his  fellow  creatures,  and,  if  not  save  all,  at  least  die 
with  them,  pointing  the  way  to  heaven.  In  truth,  he 
might  be  deemed  an  angel,  sent  by  the  Creator  to  render 
less  cruel  the  blows  of  an  inexorable  fatality. 

Singular  contrast !  —  not  far  from  this  young  man,  as 
glorious  as  an  archangel,  was  a  being  who  resembled  the 
Demon  of  Evil. 

Boldly  stationed  on  the  shattered  end  of  the  bowsprit, 
where  he  held  on  by  means  of  some  broken  ropes,  this 
man  looked  around  on  all  that  was  passing  on  the  deck. 

A  fierce,  brutal,  and  horrid  delight  overspread  his 
yellow  features,  of  that  peculiar  tint  which  characterises 
the  offspring  of  a  white  and  mulatto  Creole.  He  only 
wore  a  shirt  and  cotton  drawers,  and  around  his  neck 
was  suspended  by  a  cord  a  long  tin  case,  such  as  that 
in  which  soldiers  keep  their  discharge. 

The  more  the  danger  increased,  the  closer  the  three- 
master  neared  the  fatal  reefs,  and  the  more  they  drew 
near  the  steam-vessel  (which  collision  threatened  to 
destroy  both  ships,  even  before  they  should  be  dashed  on 
the  rocks),  the  more  did  the  fiendish  joy  of  this  passen- 
ger reveal  itself  in  desperate  delight.  He  seemed  desir- 
ous of  hastening,  by  his  savage  impatience,  the  work  of 
destruction  which  was  now  so  imminent. 

To  see  him  feed  greedily  on  all  the  agony,  the  terror, 
and  despairings  which  were  displayed  before  him,  he 
might  be  taken  for  an  apostle  of  one  of  those  bloody 

308 


THE  TEMPEST. 


divinities  who,  in  barbarous  climes,  preside  over  murder 
and  slaughter. 

The  Black  Eagle,  driven  by  the  wind  and  the  towering 
billows,  now  neared  the  William  Tell  so  closely  that  from 
the  former  vessel  the  passengers  were  seen  collected  on 
the  deck  of  the  Tell,  which  was  in  a  sinking  state. 

Her  passengers  were  but  few.  The  sea  that  struck 
her,  by  carrying  away  the  paddle-box  and  injuring  the 
wheel,  had  also  carried  away  nearly  all  the  bulwarks  on 
that  side  ;  and  the  waves,  at  every  moment  washing  over 
the  breach  they  had  made,  swept  the  deck  with  irresist- 
ible violence,  carrying  away  in  each  rush  of  waters 
several  victims. 

Amongst  the  passengers  who  seemed  saved  from  the 
one  peril  but  to  be  dashed  in  pieces  on  the  rocks,  or 
crushed  by  the  shock  of  the  two  meeting  vessels,  was  a 
group  which  claimed  the  tenderest,  the  most  painful 
interest. 

Standing  quite  aft  was  a  tall  old  man  with  bald  head 
and  gray  moustache,  who  had  tied  around  his  body  a  long 
piece  of  rope  which  was  fastened  to  the  ship's  side;  and 
thus  secured,  he  clasped  in  his  arms,  and  hugged  tightly 
to  his  breast,  two  young  girls  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  years 
of  age,  half  wrapped  up  in  a  reindeer-skin  cloak ;  a  large 
dog,  dripping  with  water  and  barking  furiously  at  the 
angry  waters,  was  at  their  feet. 

These  young  girls,  embraced  in  the  old  man's  arms, 
clung  tightly  also  to  each  other ;  but,  far  from  looking 
around  them  with  fear,  they  raised  their  eyes  to  heaven, 
as  though,  full  of  confidence  and  ingenuous  hope,  they 
were  expecting  to  be  saved  by  the  interposition  of  some 
supernatural  power. 

A  fearful  and  horrid  cry  was  uttered  by  all  the  pas- 
sengers on  board  both  vessels,  which  resounded  far  above 
the  rage  of  the  tempest. 

At  the  moment  when,  dipping  down  into  the  abyss  of 
a  monster  wave,  the  steamboat  presented  her  broadside 

309 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


to  the  bow  of  the  three-master,  the  latter,  lifted  up  on 
high  by  a  mountain  of  water,  was  suspended  as  it  were 
in  air  above  the  William  Tell,  for  the  moment  which 
preceded  the  collision  of  the  two  vessels. 

It  was  a  spectacle  of  sublime  horror  which  no  pencil 
can  paint. 

Yes,  during  such  catastrophes  —  quick  as  thought  — 
we  may  sometimes  retain  pictures  so  rapidly  sketched 
by  the  mind's  eye  that  they  seem  but  as  a  flash  of 
lightning. 

Thus  when  the  Black  Eagle,  uplifted  by  the  waves, 
was  about  to  descend  upon  the  William  Tell,  the  young 
man  with  the  archangel's  countenance,  and  light  and 
flowing  hair,  stood  upright  in  the  bow  of  the  three- 
master,  ready  to  dash  into  the  sea  to  save  some  victim 
from  the  closing  waters. 

He  then  saw  on  board  the  steamboat,  which  was  fully 
visible  to  him  from  his  elevated  position,  two  young 
females,  who  stretched  towards  him  their  hands  in  sup- 
plication. 

They  seemed  to  recognise  him,  and  looked  at  him  with 
a  sort  of  ecstasy  —  of  religious  adoration ! 

For  a  second,  and  in  despite  of  the  tempest's  din  — 
the  coming  wreck  —  the  looks  of  these  three  beings  met. 

The  features  of  the  young  man  then  expressed  a  sud- 
den, a  deep  commiseration  ;  for  the  two  girls  with  joined 
hands  implored  his  aid  as  their  expected  rescuer. 

The  old  man,  who  had  been  struck  down  by  the  fall 
of  a  piece  of  the  bulwark,  was  prostrate  on  the  deck. 

Soon  all  disappeared ! 

A  volume  of  deluging  waters  rushed  impetuously  over 
the  Black  Eagle,  and  that  ship  and  the  William  Tell 
dashed  furiously  against  each  other  in  a  torrent  of  boil- 
ing foam. 

At  the  fearful  collision  of  these  two  masses  of  wood 
and  iron,  which  ground  against  each  other,  the  timbers 
quivered  and  parted.    There  was,  too,  a  harrowing  cry. 

310 


THE  TEMPEST. 


A  cry  of  agony  and  of  death  ! 

One  cry,  raised  by  a  hundred  human  creatures  sink- 
ing simultaneously  into  the  abyss  of  waters ! 
And  then  nothing  was  seen  ! 

A  few  moments  after,  in  the  hollows  or  on  the  sum- 
mits of  the  waves,  might  be  seen  the  broken  timbers  of 
the  sunken  ships,  and  here  and  there  the  contracted 
arms,  the  wan  and  despairing  faces,  of  some  wretches 
trying  to  reach  the  reefs  of  the  shore  at  the  risk  of  being 
dashed  on  them  by  the  rebounding  waves  which  fell 
there  in  all  their  violence. 


311 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 


THE  CHiTEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE.  THE  SHIPWRECKED. 

While  the  steward  proceeded  to  the  coast,  in  hopes  of 
saving  such  of  his  fellow  creatures  as  might  have  been 
spared  from  the  inevitable  destruction  of  the  two  vessels, 
M.  Rodin,  conducted  by  Catherine  to  the  Green  Chamber, 
had  employed  himself  in  selecting  the  various  articles  he 
was  to  convey  to  Paris. 

A  couple  of  hours  had  thus  passed  away,  when  M. 
Rodin,  who  had  almost  forgotten  the  fearful  fate  of  the 
wrecked  passengers,  and  took  not  the  slightest  interest 
in  the  exertions  each  inhabitant  of  the  chateau  was 
making  to  save  them  from  a  watery  grave,  returned  to 
the  apartment  ordinarily  occupied  by  the  steward,  a 
room  which  opened  upon  a  long  gallery.  It  was  entirely 
empty  when  he  entered  it,  bearing  under  his  arm  a  small 
ebony  casket  with  silver  clasps,  blackened  and  tarnished 
by  time,  while  in  the  breast  pocket  of  his  half  closed 
greatcoat  might  be  seen  the  end  of  a  large  red  morocco 
pocketbook. 

Had  the  cold,  impassive  features  of  the  Abbe'  d'Aigri- 
gny's  confidential  secretary  been  capable  of  expressing 
joy  in  any  other  manner  than  by  a  sardonic  grin,  now 
was  the  hour  when  he  might  have  shone  out  all  radiant, 
for  things  had  hitherto  all  combined  to  work  to  the  end 
he  desired,  and  M.  Rodin's  reflections  were  of  the  most 
pleasing  and  happy  description. 

First,  placing  the  casket  on  a  table,  he  said  in  a  low, 
and  well-satisfied  tone : 

312 


THE  SHIPWRECKED. 


"All  goes  well.    These  papers  have  been  prudently 
left  here  until  now,  for  it  was  at  all  times  requisite  to  be 
on  our  guard  against  the  diabolical  spirit  of  that  Adri- 
enne  de  Cardoville,  who  appears  to  know,  instinctively, 
things  she  never  could  have  been  told  by  any  human 
being.    However,  happily  the  hour  is  fast  approaching 
when  we  shall  have  no  further  occasion  to  fear  her.  Her 
fate  will  be  a  cruel  one,  'tis  true ;  but  it  must  be  so  ;  such 
proud  and  independent  natures  as  she  possesses  must  be 
treated  as  our  born  foes.    A  character  like  hers  is  at  all 
times  inimical  to  our  designs,  but  when  it  rises  in  direct 
opposition,  and   threatens  to  overthrow  our  dearest 
schemes,  our  most  important  plans  —  then  —  then,  in- 
deed, down  with  it,  and  with  her  !    No  mercy  !    It  were 
worse  than  childish  to  think  of  showing  any.    As  for  La 
Sainte-Colombe,  there  we  are  safe  ;  the  steward  is  gained, 
for,  spite  of  the  fool's  scruples  of  conscience,  his  dread 
of  losing  his  situation  will  compel  him  to  serve  us.  I 
shall  keep  him,  because  he  will  answer  my  purpose 
better  than  a  stranger,  and  the  very  fact  of  his  having 
lived  here  the  last  twenty  years  will  effectually  prevent 
that  ignorant  and  weak-minded  Madame  de  la  Sainte- 
Colombe  from  entertaining  the  slightest  mistrust  of  him. 
Once  let  me  place  her  in  the  hands  of  our  protege  of 
Roiville,  and  I  will  answer  for  the  rest.     The  path 
of  these  stupid,  worldly-minded  females  is  uniformly  the 
same,  — in  their  youth  they  serve  the  devil;  in  mature 
age  they  lead  others  to  serve  him ;  in  their  old  age  they 
live  in  horrible  dread  of  him;  and  this  fear  we  must 
excite  and  work  upon  until  we  have  induced  her  to 
bequeath  to  us  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville,  which,  from 
its  isolated  position,  would  form  an  excellent  college. 
Thus  far,  then,  all  works  as  we  could  wish  it.    As  for 
the  affair  of  the  medals,  we  are  fast  approaching  the  thir- 
teenth of  February,  and,  by  the  last  accounts  from  Joshua, 
Prince  Djalma  is  doubtless  still  kept  a  prisoner  by  the 
English,  in  some  distant  part  of  India,  otherwise  I 

313 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


should  have  heard  from  Batavia ;  while  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon  will  be  detained  a  month  longer  at  Leip- 
sic.  Nothing  can  be  better  than  all  our  exterior  rela- 
tions ;  and,  a°s  for  the  state  of  our  home  affairs  —  " 

M.  Rodin  was  here  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
Madame  Dupont,  busily  engaged  in  her  benevolent  prep- 
arations to  receive  her  shipwrecked  guests. 

«  Now,  then,"  said  she,  speaking  to  a  stout  servant 
who  was  assisting  her, « light  a  good  fire  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room,  and  set  this  warm  wine  on  the  hob ;  we  may 
expect  your  master's  return  every  minute." 

«  Well,  my  dear  madame,"  said  Rodin,  "  do  you  expect 
to  save  anv  of  these  poor  creatures  ? " 

«  Indeed,  sir,  I  cannot  say ;  my  husband  has  been  gone 
these  two  hours,  and  my  knowledge  of  his  undaunted 
courage  and  resolution,  where  there  is  any  good  to  be 
done,  makes  me  dreadfully  uneasy;  for,  indeed,  he 
carries  his  daring  spirit  beyond  the  limits  of  prudence. 

«  Ha ! "  muttered  Rodin  to  himself ;  "  courageous  even 
to  imprudence  !    I  like  not  that !"  , 
«  And  now,"  resumed  Catherine,  « I  am  putting  fresh 
clothes  and  linen  to  air  by  the  fires.^  Heaven  grant  it 
may  be  but  as  serviceable  as  I  wish  it," 

"Let  us  at  least  hope  that  it  will,"  answered  Rodm, 
blandly.  "  I  assure  vou,  my  dear  madame,  I  felt  consid- 
erable regret  that  neither  my  age  nor  my  infirmities 
permitted  me  aiding  your  worthy  husband  m  his  labour 
of  love.  I  equallv  regret  being  unable  to  learn  the 
result  of  his  exertions,  and  to  congratulate  him  if  suc- 
cessful, for  I  am  unfortunately  compelled  to  depart 
immediately  — my  very  moments  are  reckoned.  May 
I  beg  of  you  to  order  my  carriage  to  be  got  ready 
instantly  ? " 

"  Directly,  sir,"  said  Catherine,  going. 
"One  word,  my  dear,  my  excellent  Madame  Dupont. 
You  are  a  woman  of  good  sound  sense  and  admirable 
judgment ;  I  will,  therefore,  tell  you  that  I  have  pointed 

3U 


THE  SHIPWRECKED. 


out  a  way  by  which,  if  your  husband  chooses,  he  may 
continue  to  hold  his  present  situation." 

"  Is  it  possible ! "  exclaimed  Catherine,  in  a  glow  of 
delight;  then,  clasping  her  hands,  she  added, «  Oh,  what 
thanks  do  we  not  owe  you  for  your  goodness !  What 
would  become  of  people  at  our  age  if  my  husband  was  to 
lose  his  present  employment  ?" 

"  I  have  only  added  two  trifling  conditions  to  my 
promise  of  obtaining  his  further  engagement  here,  and 
these  conditions  are  mere  nothings.    However,  I  shall 
leave  him  to  explain  all  that  to  you." 
«  Ah,  sir,  Heaven  has  sent  you  to  save  and  to  serve 

"  Nay,  nay,  you  overvalue  my  poor  services,  which  are 
only  given  on  two  conditions,  as  I  before  said  " 

"  Were  there  a  hundred,  we  should  most  gratefully 
accept  them!  Think  for  a  moment,  sir,  what  would 
become  of  us  were  M.  Dupont  forced  to  leave  his  situa- 
tion here  Alas!  we  must  starve,  for  we  have  saved 
nothing ! " 

>  "I  may  reckon,  I  see,  upon  your  kind  cooperation 
m  the  matter;  and  for  your  husband's  sake,  and  the 
interests  of  both  of  you,  endeavour  to  persuade  him  not 

SsmS"       °nl7  °f  eSCaPin^  from  instan* 

"Madame!  Mistress!"  exclaimed  a  servant,  rush- 
tufnedT"  int°         Chamber;  faster  has  re- 

"  Has  he  many  persons  with  him  ?" 

"  No,  madame ;  he  is  alone." 

"  Alone  ?    Quite  alone  ? " 

"  Yes,  madame,  quite." 

A  few  seconds  only  elapsed  when  M.  Dupont  entered 
the  room.  His  clothes  were  streaming  with  wet,  and  his 
leathern  gaiters  covered  with  mud  and  clay;  while  in 
order  to  prevent  his  hat  being  blown  away  by  the  tre- 
mendous gusts  of  wind,  he  had  tied  it  on  his  head  by 

315 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


means  of  his  cravat,  which  was  placed  over  the  crown 
and  knotted  under  his  chin. 

"  Oh,  how  thankful  I  am  to  see  you  back  safe  and 
sound ! "  said  his  wife,  affectionately  embracing  him. 
«  Indeed,  I  was  very  uneasy  ! " 

"  Up  to  the  present  moment  we  have  only  saved 

three!"  ,„     •  j  ~\t 

"God  be  praised,  my  worthy  M.  Dupont!  said  M. 
Rodin,  piously  casting  up  his  eyes  and  hands ;  "  your 
efforts  have  not  been  wholly  in  vain !  " 

«  Three  !  only  three !     Merciful  Father,  how  dread- 
ful ! "  said  Catherine. 

"I  am  only  speaking  of  those  I  saw  myself,  near  the 
small  bay  of  Goelands ;  let  us  hope  that  along  other 
parts  of  the  coast  a  still  greater  number  may  have 
found  safety." 

«  True,  dear  husband ;  and,  happily,  all  parts  01  this 
coast  are  not  as  dangerous  as  in  our  immediate  neigh- 
bourhood." 

«  And  where  are  these  poor  creatures,  so  benevolently 
snatched  by  you  from  the  jaws  of  death  ?"  said  M. 
Rodin  who  could  not  avoid  remaining  a  little  while 
longer,  and  thought  himself  obliged  to  feign  an  interest 
he  was  far  from  feeling. 

"They  are  slowly  proceeding  along  the  clills  by  tne 
aid  of  our  people.  Poor  things !  They  are  so  much 
exhausted  they  cannot  walk  very  fast ;  so  I  thought  1 
would  hurry  home  to  reassure  my  wife  (who  is  always 
anxious  about  me),  and  to  give  some  necessary  orders 
for  their  accommodation.  In  the  first  place,  my  dear, 
said  the  steward,  speaking  to  Catherine,  "  you  must  get 
some  female  attire  ready."  n 

« Is  there,  then,  a  woman  among  the  persons  saved  i 

"  There  are  two  young  girls,  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of 
age  at  the  utmost  —  mere  children,  but  so  lovely  !  " 

«  Poor  little  things ! "  uttered  M.  Rodin,  in  a  voice  ot 
affected  commiseration. 

316 


THE  SHIPWRECKED. 

«  They  owe  their  lives  to  the  individual  by  whom  thev 
^accompanied ;  and  a  noble  fellow  he  is,  too !    A  real 

"A  hero?" 

"Yes;  just  fancy—" 

.  ''  Yo"  ?.haI1  tel1  me  ^1  this  by  and  by.  First  of  all, 
take  off  that  wet  coat,  and  slip  on  this  nice  dry  dress- 
ing gown,  and  take  a  hearty  drink  of  this  hot  spiced 
wine,  for  you  are  shivering  with  the  cold  of  those 
wet  garments. 

"  I  will  not  refuse  so  good  an  offer,  for  I  feel  cold  as 
death.  I  was  saying  that  the  person  who  saved  these 
young  girls  was  a  hero;  and  certainly  the  courage  he 
displayed  exceeded  anything  I  ever  heard  or  read  of. 
When  I  left  the  house  with  all  the  men  I  could  collect 

r^T^  ^nttle  WiDding  Path  from  the  e^eme' 
Kttf  k  -  1  T  reached  its  base-    Y™  know 

the  little  bay  of  Goelands,  which  is  fortunately  protected 
from  the  swell  of  the  sea  by  five  or  six  enormous  blocks 
of  stone.    Well  at  the  extremity  of  the  bay  what  do  you 

£  von  of  n't  •  Wh^,the ,tW°  y°UnS  ^  1  ™  toll" 
""""'f*  insensible,  their  feet  still  resting  in  the 

water,  but  their  bodies  reclining  against  a  rock,  as  though 

some  one  had  placed  them  there  after  having  withdrawn 

them  from  the  violence  of  the  sea." 

J'/mX^™  y°U^  creatures>  wh-at  a  piteous  tale!" 

finL  * °  !Y£P  7f g'  as  usua1'  the  t{P  of  the  little 
finger  of  his  left  hand  to  the  corner  of  his  right  eye,  as 
though  to  dry  a  tear,  which  was  rather  difficult  to  find 

thevT!^  Stmt  m,?  WS  the  Perfect  resemblance 
they  bore  to  each  other,"  added  the  steward;  "which 

ITZITk^ ]*'  that  1  Sh°Uld  ^  unless  y°«  ™e  in 
SaK  seeing  them,  it  would  be  quite  impos- 

sible to  know  one  from  the  other." 

"Twin  sisters,  no  doubt,"  said  Madame  Dupont. 
One  of  these  poor  young  things,"  pursued  the  stew- 

317 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


ard, "  held  tightly  clasped  between  her  icy  fingers  a  small 
bronze  medal,  suspended  around  her  neck  by  a  chain  of 
the  same  metal."  . 

M.  Rodin  generally  observed  a  stooping  position,  as 
though  bent  with  age  and  infirmities ;  but  he  suddenly 
sprung  up  at  these  words,  while  a  slight  tinge  of  ascend- 
in"  blood  diffused  itself  over  his  usually  colourless 
countenance.  In  any  other  individual  these  trifling 
alternations  might  have  passed  unnoticed ;  but  in  a  per- 
son who,  like  M.  Rodin,  had  long  habituated  himself  to 
control  each  impulse,  and  dissimulate  every  emotion,  they 
indicated  a  most  violent  revulsion  of  feeling  and  idea. 
Hastily  approaching  the  steward,  he  inquired,  in  a  voice 
which  almost  resisted  even  his  master-hand  to  subdue 
the  agitation  of  :  m 

"Did  you  observe  what  device  or  inscription  this 
medal  bore  ?  Some  pious  relic,  I  should  guess,  by  the 
extreme  care  evinced  by  the  poor  girl  to  preserve  it,  even 
in  what  she  might  have  supposed  her  dying  moments. 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  answered  the  steward,  coldly,  "  I  was 
too  much  engaged  with  the  condition  of  the  pow  halt 
drowned  children  to  think  or  care  about  the  medal. 

"  And  the  resemblance  between  these  young  persons 
is  very  great,  I  think  you  said  ? " 

«  So  great  that  I,  for  one,  would  not  undertake  to 
say  I  should  be  able  to  know  which  was  which.  In  all 
probability  the  poor  girls  have  lost  one  if  not  both 
their  parents,  for  I  observed  they  were  dressed  m  deep 
mourning."  „  ,r  _  .,, 

"Ah,  dressed  in  mourning!"  cried  M.  Rodm,  with  a 

second  start.  _  , 

«  How  very  sad !  So  very  young,  and  already  perhaps 
orphans ! "  said  Madame  Dupont,  wiping  away  the  tears 
which  rose  from  her  kind-hearted  sympathy. 

«  Well,"  resumed  the  steward,  "  we  removed  the  poor 
things,  all  fainting  as  they  were,  to  a  more  convenient 
spot,  where  the  sand  was  harder  and  drier.    While  we 

318 


THE  SHIPWRECKED. 


IZ  itT  V0Wng  t0  reca11  them  to  life,  we 

saw  the  head  of  a  man  appear  just  over  one  of  the  rocks 
which  he  was  endeavouring  to  climb,  grasping  feebly' 
with  one  hand;  we  hastened  to  him,  and,  happily,  iust 
m  tame  to  save  him  from  being  carried  off  by  the  raging 
sea,  for  his  strength  was  entirely  exhausted" and  just  as 
we  reached  Km  he  fell  quite  lifeless  into  the  arms  o 
our  men.  This  noble  fellow,  it  seems,  not  contented 
with  having  displayed  such  admirable  courage  in  pre- 
serving the  two  girls,  wished  to  attempt  to  rescue  a  third 

Es  *?  Whr'faf?r  haVing  Pkced  the  P°or  young 
things  out  of  risk  of  drowning  against  the  cliffs  he 

wished  to  return,  amid  all  the  violence  of  the  sea  which 

continually  threw  him  back  upon  the  rocks;  hs  last 

effort  was  to  try  to  cling  on  by  one  hand  to  the  masses 

o  weed  and  wild-grass  which  grew  from  the  crevi  es 

but  his  strength  had  quite  failed  him,  and  we  were  barely 

in  time  to  save  him  from  perishing."  7 

"You  may  well  say  he  acted  nobly  !  " 

M  Rodin,  bending  downwards  till  his  head  almost 
rested  on  his  breast,  appeared  not  to  hear  any  parTof 
this  conversation;  his  consternation,  his  surprise  in- 

a  j  Tn  t  he  refle.Ct6d  Up0n  the  8ing«lar  ^ven  s  of 
the  last  three  hours.    These  two  young  girls,  attired  in 

ett  oTerTbg'    Ti^  *?"  Lemblance  S 

each  other,  the  medal  around  the  neck  of  one  of  them 

but  bv  wbn°,°ther  tha"  S6  daU»hterS  0f  General  SimoT;' 
but  by  what  unaccountable  chance  had  they  been  partici 
pators  in  the  horrors  of  the  late  shipwreck  ?  How 

selTes  Wb  th6ir  lib6rty  ?  H°W  maM°ed  t0  free  them 
ii  he  hi a  Z  I  lmPnsonment  ^  Leipsic  ?  And  how  was 
contrived  tn  b,6en  aP?rised  of  «>e  fact  ?  Could  they  have 
ho e!  v  f  LT  t  theirnescaf '  OT  h^  they  been  set  at 
liberty  t    And,  above  all,  why  had  he  not  been  duly 

Ms  wb'1  ^  ^  These  second^ 

mmf  o?'M  k ?h,PreSented  themselves  in  crowds  to  the 
mind  of  M.  Rodin,  were  lost  in  the  one  overwhelming 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


reflection  —  these  children  of  General  Simon  were  on 
the  spot,  to  defeat  the  web  so  skilfully,  so  artfully  spun, 
and  which  had  cost  such  sleepless  nights  and  days  to 
perfect,  now,  by  their  presence,  utterly  destroyed  and 
rendered  abortive.  . 

«  When  I  speak  of  the  saviour  of  these  two  poor  girls, 
continued  the  steward,  addressing  his  wife,  and  without 
observing  the  deep  reverie  of  M.  Rodin,  - 1  dare  say  you 
picture  to  vourself  a  strong,  herculean  person  ;  but,  bless 
you !  nothing  of  the  kind.  My  hero  is  almost  boyish  in 
his  appearance,  -  so  slight,  so  fair,  and  with  such  delicate 
features  and  light  curling  hair !  The  poor  fellow,  when 
we  found  him,  had  only  on  his  shirt,  a  pair  of  black  knee- 
breeches,  and  a  pair  of  black  worsted  stockings  which 
certainly  struck  me  as  being  a  very  strange  style  of 
dress ;  so  I  left  the  poor  fellow  a  large  cloak  to  wrap 

himself  up  in."  .  ,  „ 

"It  was  a  curious  way  to  be  dressed  in,  certainly, 
answered  Catherine  ;  «  sailors  never  wear  such  garments 
as  that " 

«  Besides,  though  the  vessel  he  belonged  to  was  Eng- 
lish, I  fancv  my  hero  was  a  Frenchman,  for  he  spoke 
our  language  as  well  as  you  or  I  do.  But  what  brought 
the  tears  to  my  eyes  was  to  see  the  two  poor  girls, 
directlv  they  came  to  themselves,  go  down  on  their 
knees/ and,  looking  at  him  with  an  air  of  religious 
admiration,  render  thanks  to  him  for  their  safety,  as 
though  he  had  been  a  god;  then  they  looked  anxiously 
around,  as  though  seeking  some  other  person,  alter 
which  they  uttered  a  few  words,  and  threw  themselves 
into  each  other's  arms,  sobbing  as  though  their  hearts 

would  break."  , 

"How  distressing!  Alas,  how  many  unfortunate  vic- 
tims may  not  this  storm  have  swallowed  up . 

"Before  we  quitted  the  cliffs  the  sea  had  cast  ashore 
seven  dead  bodies,  portions  of  the  wreck,  chests,  etc.  l 
summoned  the  custom-house  officers  and  coast-guards 

320 


THE  SHIPWRECKED. 


and  they  will  remain  throughout  the  whole  of  the  day 
to  keep  watch;  and  if,  as  I  hope,  any  other  unfortunate 
bemgs  should  be  enabled  to  reach  the  shore  with  life  I 
gave  orders  that  they  should  immediately  be  brought 
hither.    But  listen  - 1  hear  the  sound  of  voices '  Yes 
tis  the  poor  shipwrecked  souls !  "  ' 
So  saying,  the  steward,  accompanied  by  his  wife 
rushed  to  open  the  door  of  the  room,  which,  as  we 
before  mentioned,  led  out  upon  a  long  gallery  while 
M.  Rodin,  biting  his  flat  white  nails  in  convulsive  and  Tm- 
potent  rage,  awaited  with  deep  anxiety  the  arrival  of  the 
strangers ;  and  quickly  did  a  most  touching  picture 
present  itself  to  his  view.  p 

nnlvTfc^  b°tt0m  °ltMS  gall6r?>  Wh[ch  was  d^k,  and 
only  hghted  on  one  side  by  some  lancet-paned  windows 

strw1yPerS°nS'  C°ndUCted  by  a  countryman,  advanced 
This  group  consisted  of  two  young  girls  and  the 
intrepid  person  to  whom  they  owed  their  lives  Rose 
and  Blanche  were  one  on  each  side  of  their  rescuer,  who 
walking  with  much  difficulty,  leaned  lightly  on 'their 


Although  he  was  fully  twenty-five  years  of  age  the 
youthful  countenance  of  this  man  did  not  seem  so' old! 
am  long  light  brown  hair,  parted  down  his  forehead,  fell 

wh  chnheS£°b  C°llar,  °f  xa  krge  bTOTO  cloak>  * 2 
to  detrf^l  T  C°Vf ed>    Zt  W0UM  be  a  difficult  task 

iale  and  Intl6  g°°dneSS  which  beamed  in  his 

pale  and  gentle  face,  as  pure  as  any  countenance  which 

Z  a^"e  Could  P°rtray        saddened  expression  of 

fook  ZSIT  features',the  cal™ess  of  "is  heavenward 
look,  and  hlg  eye  ag  dear  and         a§  , 

or  a  martyr  ascended  to  the  skies.  S  ' 

Yes,  of  a  martyr;  for  a  blood-red  circle  already  en- 
compassed this  beautiful  head.  7 
It  was  a  painful  sight  to  see  above  his  light  brown 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


eyebrows,  and  made  still  more  bright  in  its  ruddy  colour 
by  a  straight  cicatrix,  which  had  been  made  some  months 
before,  and  seemed  to  encircle  his  splendid  brow  with 
a  cord  of  purple.  It  was  still  more  sad  to  behold  his 
hands  cruelly  pierced  as  by  crucifixion,  and  his  feet, 
which  had  been  subjected  to  the  same  infliction ;  so  that 
he  walked  with  extreme  agony,  as  his  wounds  had 
opened  afresh  as  he  crawled  over  the  sharp-pointed 
rocks  whilst  he  was  struggling  for  his  life. 

This  young  man  was  Gabriel,  the  priest  attached  to 
the  foreign  missions,  and  the  adopted  child  of  Dagobert's 
wife. 

Gabriel  was  a  priest  and  a  martyr,  — for  in  these  our 
days  there  are  also  martyrs,  as  in  the  time  when  the 
Caesars  threw  the  early  Christians  to  the  lions  and  tigers 
of  the  Circus. 

In  our  days  the  children  of  the  people  —  for  it  is 
always  amongst  them  that  are  found  the  heroic  and  disin- 
terested—  it  is  the  children  of  the  people  who  display 
courage  and  sincerity,  and  go  to  all  parts  of  the  world  to 
try  and  propagate  their  faith,  and  brave  death  with 
fearlessness  and  devotion. 

How  many  of  them,  victims  of  barbarism,  have  per- 
ished, obscure  and  unknown,  in  the  midst  of  the  soli- 
tudes of  the  two  worlds!  And  these  simple  soldiers 
of  the  cross,  who  have  nothing  but  their  faith  and  their 
courage,  never  have  any  return  (or  seldom),  never  any  of 
those  loaves  and  fishes  which  the  church  has  to  bestow ! 
The  purple  or  the  mitre  never  conceals  their  scarred 
brows,  their  mutilated  limbs ;  but,  like  the  majority  of 
the  soldiers  of  the  army,  they  die  forgotten ! 1 

In  their  ingenuous  gratitude  the  daughters  of  General 

i  We  remember  with  deep  interest  the  end  of  a  letter  written  two  or  three 
years  ago  by  a  missionary  son  of  some  peasants  at  Beauce.  He  wrote  to  his 
mother  from  Japan,  and  ended  his  letter  thus  :        .  wWp  T 

«  Good-bye.  my  dear  mother;  they  tell  me  there  is  much  danger  where  I 
am  going  to.   Pray  to  God  for  me,  and  tell  all  our  good  neighbours  that  I 

l0VihSesfmple  ^S^SS^S^L  the  centre  of  Asia  to  poor  peasants  in 
a  hamlet  of  France,  appears  to  us  exquisitely  touching. 

322 


THE  SHIPWRECKED. 


Simon,  once  restored  to  their  senses  after  the  shipwreck, 
and  sufficiently  strong  to  climb  amongst  the  rocks' 
would  not  allow  any  other  person  to  have  the  care  of 
supporting  the  faltering  steps  of  him  who  had  snatched 
them  from  certain  death. 

The  black  clothes  of  Rose  and  Blanche  were  streaming 
with  water;  their  faces,  which  were  excessively  pale, 
expressed  deep  grief,  and  tears  were  in  their  eyes,  which 
were  sorrowful,  downcast,  and  quivering  with  emotion 
and  cold,  as  they  reflected  that  they  should  never  again 
see  Dagobert,  their  guide  and  friend ;  for  he  it  was  whom 
Gabriel  had  in  vain  attempted  to  save  by  helping  him 
to  ascend  the  rocks.  Unfortunately  strength  had  lailed 
them  both,  and  the  soldier  was  swept  away  by  a  receding; 
wave.  b 

The  appearance  of  Gabriel  was  a  fresh  surprise  for 
Rodin,  who  had  retired  into  a  corner,  whence  he  might 
observe  all ;  but  this  surprise  was  so  fortunate,  and  he 
was  so  delighted  to  see  the  missionary  saved  from  the 
death  which  seemed  so  imminent,  that  the  intense  feel- 
ing which  he  had  experienced  at  the  sight  of  General 
feimon's  daughters  was  greatly  abated.  It  must  not  be 
forgotten  that  M.  Rodin's  plans  required  the  presence 
ot  Gabriel  m  Paris  on  the  thirteenth  of  February. 

The  steward  and  his  wife,  who  were  greatly  affected 
at  the  sight  of  the  orphan  girls,  approached  them  with 
eagerness. 

"  Sir,  sir,  good  news ! "  said  a  country  lad,  as  he 
entered.  "Two  more  persons  saved  from  the  wreck'" 

«  Heaven  be  praised  !  Heaven  be  blessed !  "  said  the 
missionary. 

"Where  are  they?"  inquired  the   steward,  ffoim? 
towards  the  door. 

"  There  is  one  who  can  walk,  and  is  following  on  with 
Justin,  who  is  leading  him ;  the  other  was  wounded 
against  the  rocks,  and  they  are  carrying  him  hither  on  a 
litter  made  of  the  branches  of  trees." 

328 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


« I  will  run  and  have  him  placed  in  the  lower  room," 
said  the  steward,  going  out.  "  You,  wife,  can  help  the 
young  maidens."  m . 

"  And  the  shipwrecked  man  who  is  able  to  walK, 
where  is  he  ? "  inquired  the  steward's  wife. 

«  Here  he  is,"  said  the  peasant,  pointing  to  some  one 
who  came  along  the  gallery  with  a  quick  step.  "  When 
he  learned  that  the  two  young  ladies  were  saved,  and 
here,  although  he  is  old,  and  was  bruised  on  the  head, 
he  made  such  quick  strides  that  it  was  as  much  as  I 
could  do  to  get  here  first." 

The  peasant  had  scarcely  pronounced  these  words 
than  Rose  and  Blanche,  rising  together  by  a  spontaneous 
impulse,  hurried  towards  the  door.  They  arrived  there 
at  the  same  moment  as  Dagobert. 

The  soldier,  unable  to  articulate  a  word,  tell  on  his 
knees  at  the  threshold,  and  lifted  up  his  hands  to  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon,  whilst  Killjoy,  running  to 
them,  began  licking  their  hands. 

The  emotion  was  too  strong  for  Dagobert,  and  when 
he  had  clasped  the  orphans  in  his  arms  his  head  fell 
back,  and  he  would  have  dropped  prostrate,  but  tor 
the  care  of  the  countryman  near  him.  In  spite  of  the 
observations  of  the  steward's  wife,  as  to  their  weakness 
and  emotion,  the  two  young  girls  would  accompany  the 
fainting  Dagobert,  who  was  carried  into  an  adjoining 

apartment.  ,,  _  _.  ,  . 

At  the  appearance  of  the  soldier,  M.  Rodin's  face  was 
contracted,  as  though  by  a  spasm,  for  he  had  till  that 
moment  supposed  the  guide  of  the  generals  daughters 

was  dead.  .         .  , 

The  missionary,  overwhelmed  with  fatigue,  was  lean- 
ing on  a  chair,  not  having  yet  observed  M.  Rodin. 

Another  person,  a  man  with  a  yellow  and  sallow  com- 
plexion, entered  the  apartment,  and  coming  up  to  the 
missionary,  said  to  him  in  French,  but  with  a  foreign 
accent : 

324 


THE  SHIPWRECKED. 


"  The  Prince  Djalma  will  be  brought  in  directly :  his 
first  word  was  to  ask  for  you." 

"What  does  that  man  say?"  exclaimed  Rodin,  in 
a  voice  of  thunder  ;  for  at  the  name  of  Djalma  he  had 
with  a  single  bound,  sprung  to  Gabriel's  side. 

"  Monsieur  Rodin  !  "  exclaimed  the  missionary,  greatly 
surprised.  J 

"  Monsieur  Rodin !  "  exclaimed  the  other  shipwrecked 
man;  and  from  that  instant  his  eye  never  quitted  the 
correspondent  of  Joshua  Van  Dael. 

"You  here,  sir!"  said  Gabriel,  approaching  Rodin 
with  an  air  of  deference  and  fear. 

"What  did  that  man  say  to  you?"  repeated  Rodin, 
with  a  faltering  voice.  "Did  he  not  utter  the  name  of 
Prince  Djalma  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  Prince  Djalma  was  one  of  the  passengers 
on  board  the  English  vessel  which  came  from  Alexan- 
dria, and  which  has  now  been  wrecked.  This  vessel  put 
in  at  the  Azores,  where  I  was,  the  ship  that  brought  me 
from  Charlestown  having  been  obliged  to  remain  there 
on  account  of  severe  damage  she  suffered  in  a  heavy 
gale.  I  embarked  on  board  the  Black  Eagle,  where  I 
met  Prince  Djalma.  We  were  bound  to  Portsmouth, 
and  thence  I  intended  to  make  my  way  to  France." 

Rodin  did  not  interrupt  Gabriel.  This  fresh  shock 
completely  paralysed  his  thoughts.  At  length,  like  a 
man  who  tries  a  last  forcible  effort,  although  he  knows 
beforehand  that  it  is  vain,  he  said  to  Gabriel : 

"  And  do  you  know  who  this  Prince  Djalma  is  ?  " 

"A  young  man  as  brave  as  good,  the  son  of  an  Indian 
king,  dispossessed  of  his  territory  by  the  English." 

Then,  turning  towards  the  other  shipwrecked  man, 
the  missionary  said  to  him  in  a  tone  of  deep  interest : 

"How  is  the  prince?    Are  his  wounds  dangerous?" 

«  Ihe   bruises   are   not  mortal,  but  they  are  very 
serious,"  was  the  reply. 

"  God  be  praised ! "  said  the  missionary ;  and,  turn- 

325 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


ing  towards  Rodin,  ''Here,  you  see,  there  is  another 
saved  " 

"  So  much  the  better,"  replied  Rodin,  in  a  brief  and 
imperious  tone. 

» I  will  go  to  him,"  said  Gabriel,  submissively,  "  un- 
less vou  have  any  orders  to  give  me." 

"  Shall  you  be  ready  to  set  out  hence  in  two  or  three 
hours,  in  spite  of  your  fatigues  ? " 

"  Yes,  if  it  be  peremptory." 

"  It  is.    You  will  go  with  me." 

Gabriel  bowed  to  Rodin,  who  fell  back  in  his  chair 
like  one  bereft  of  his  wits,  whilst  the  missionary  left  the 
room  with  the  servant. 

The  man  with  the  sallow  complexion  remained, 
unperceived  by  Rodin. 

This  man  was  Faringhea  the  mulatto,  one  of  the  three 
Strangler  chiefs,  who  had  evaded  the  pursuit  of  the 
soldiers  in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi.  After  having  mur- 
dered Mahal  the  smuggler,  he  had  stripped  him  of  the 
despatches  written  by  M.  Joshua  Tan  Dael  to  Rodin,  and 
also  of  the  letter  by  which  the  smuggler  was  to  have 
been  received  as  a'  passenger  on  board  the  Ruyter. 
Earinghea  having  escaped  from  the  hut  in  the  ruins  of 
Tchandi,  without  being  even  seen  by  Djalma,  the  latter, 
when  he  met  him  on  shipboard,  after  his  escape  (the 
particulars  of  which  will  be  hereafter  explained),  not 
knowing  that  he  belonged  to  the  Phansigars,  had  treated 
him  during  the  voyage  as  a  fellow  countryman.  ^ 

Rodin,  with  his  eye  fixed,  his  countenance  livid,  and 
mute  with  rage,  was  biting  his  nails  to  the  quick,  not 
perceiving  the  mulatto,  who,  after  having  silently 
approached  him,  placed  his  hand  familiarly  on  his 
shoulder  and  said  to  him : 
"  Your  name  is  Rodin  ?  " 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Rodin,  starting,  and  lifting 
up  his  head  quickly. 

"  Your  name  is  Rodin,  isn't  it  ? " 

326 


THE  SHIPWRECKED. 


"  It  is.    What  then  ?  " 

"You  live  in  the  Rue  Milieu-des-Ursins,  at  Paris, 
don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.    But  I  again  ask,  what  do  you  want  ? " 

"  Nothing,  now,  my  brother ;  but  hereafter,  much." 

And  Faringhea  went  away  slowly,  leaving  Rodin 
much  alarmed ;  for  this  man,  who  quailed  at  nothing, 
had  been  struck  by  the  sinister  looks  and  repulsive 
physiognomy  of  the  Strangler. 


327 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS. 

Profound  silence  reigned  throughout  the  Chateau 
de  Cardoville.  The  tempest  had  considerably  abated, 
and  the  hoarse  sound  of  the  waves,  dashing  sullenly  and 
heavily  upon  the  shore,  was  now  only  heard. 

Dagobert  and  the  orphans  were  established  in  warm 
and  comfortable  chambers  on  the  first  floor  of  the 
chateau. 

Djalma,  too  severely  hurt  to  be  carried  to  the  upper 
rooms,  had  remained  in  a  lower  apartment.  At  the 
moment  when  the  ships  struck,  a  despairing  mother  had 
placed  her  infant  in -his  arms.  In  vain  did  he  attempt 
to  snatch  the  unhappy  babe  from  a  certain  death,  the 
effort  only  impeded  his  own  struggle  for  his  life,  and  he 
was  eventually  nearly  dashed  to  pieces  when  driven  on 
the  rocks. 

Faringhea,  who  had  contrived  to  induce  a  belief  in 
his  affection  for  him,  remained  to  watch  over  him. 

Gabriel,  after  having  offered  all  the  consolation  in  his 
power  to  Djalma,  returned  to  the  chamber  allotted  to 
him ;  and  faithful  to  his  promise  to  Rodin,  to  be  ready 
to  set  out  at  the  end  of  two  hours,  would  not  lie  down  in 
bed,  but,  having  dried  his  garments,  went  to  sleep  in  a 
large  high-backed  chair  before  a-  sparkling  fire. 

This  apartment  was  situated  near  those  occupied  by 
Dagobert  and  the  two  sisters. 

Killjoy,  who  seemed  to  have  very  great  confidence  in 

328 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS. 

the  honesty  of  the  chateau,  had  left  the  door  of  Rose 
and  Blanche's  chamber,  and  had  laid  himself  down 
before  the  fire,  at  the  corner  of  which  the  missionary 
was  sleeping. 

Killjoy,  with  his  muzzle  stretched  forth  on  his  ex- 
tended paws,  enjoyed  all  the  delight  of  repose  after  so 
many  perils  by  flood  and  field.  We  will  not  take  upon  us 
to  affirm  that  he  thought  constantly  of  poor  old  Jovial, 
unless,  as  a  mark  of  his  remembrance,  it  might  be' 
observed  that  he  had  an  irresistible  impulse  to  bite  all 
the  gray  horses  he  met  since  the  death  of  his  venerable 
companion,  although  up  to  that  time  he  had  always  been 
the  most  inoffensive  dog  that  ever  breathed  to  horses 
of  every  colour. 

After  a  few  moments  one  of  the  doors  of  the  chamber 
opened,  and  the  two  sisters  entered  with  a  timid  air. 
Having  reposed  themselves,  awakened,  and  dressed,  they 
began  to  be  uneasy  concerning  Dagobert,  although  the 
steward's  wife,  after  having  shown  them  his  apart- 
ment, came  again  to  tell  them  that  the  village  doc- 
tor did  not  find  any  cause  for  apprehension  in  the 
old  soldier's  contusions;  still  they  quitted  their  room, 
hoping  to  meet  with  some  one  who  could  inform  them 
more  precisely  on  the  subject  of  their  anxiety. 

The  high  back  of  the  old-fashioned  armchair  in  which 
Gabriel  was  sleeping  completely  concealed  him,  but 
the  orphans,  seeing  Killjoy  quietly  lying  at  the  foot  of 
the  chair,  thought  it  was  Dagobert  who  was  reposing 
there,  and  they  approached  the  seat  on  tiptoe. 

To  their  great  astonishment  they  saw  Gabriel  sleeping 
there.  Quite  surprised,  they  stood  motionless,  neither 
daring  to  advance  nor  recede  for  fear  of  waking  him. 

The  long,  light  chestnut  locks  of  the  missionary  were 
no  longer  wet,  and  now  curled  around  his  neck  and  shoul- 
ders, whilst  the  paleness  of  his  complexion  was  the  more 
striking  from  the  deep  purple  hue  of  the  damask  cover 
ot  the  chair.    Gabriel's  beautiful  countenance  expressed 

329 


i 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

a  painful  melancholv,  either  arising  from  the  operation 
of  an  oppressive  dream,  or  else  that  he  always  repressed 
strong  emotions  which  betrayed  themselves  when  he  was 
sleeping.  In  spite,  however,  of  the  sadness .  and  grief  of 
his  appearance,  his  features  preserved  their  character  of 
heavenly  sweetness  and  attraction,  for  nothing  is  more 
touching  than  suffering  goodness.  The  two  young  girls 
cast  down  their  eyes,  and  blushed  as  they  perceived  the 
sleeping  missionary. 

"  He  sleeps,  my  sister,"  said  Rose,  in  a  gentle  whisper. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  answered  Blanche,  in  a  low 
tone,  and  making  a  signal  with  her  uplifted  finger,  not 
to  disturb  his  repose ;  "  we  shall  be  able  to  observe  him 
more  at  our  ease.  For,  all  through  the  time  we  were 
on  board  the  same  vessel  with  him,  we  never  could  take 
courage  to  examine  his  features." 

"How  sweet  and  heavenly  is  the  expression  of  his 
countenance!  It  must  be  he  we  have  seen  in  our 
dreams." 

"  Assuring  us  he  would  watch  over  and  protect  us." 

"  And  well  has  he  kept  his  word." 

"  But  this  time  he  does  not  deny  us  the  happiness  of 
beholding  our  deliverer." 

"  Not  as  it  was  in  that  dark  night  when  we  were  freed 
from  our  imprisonment  at  Leipsic." 

"  Yes,  then  it  was  he  who  rescued  us,  —  who  restored 
us  to  liberty." 

"  And  this  morning  we  should  have  perished  but  for 
his  powerful  aid." 

"  But  yet,  dear  sister,  it  seems  to  me  that,  when  he 
visited  us  in  our  dreams,  his  whole  countenance  seemed 
as  though  shining  with  a  radiant  brightness." 

"  Yes,  you  know  it  almost  dazzled  us  to  behold  him. 
And  then  he  did  not  appear  so  sad  and  dejected  as  he 
now  does." 

"  That  was  because,  you  see,  he  came  to  us  from 
heaven ;  but  now  he  is  on  earth." 

330 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS. 


"  And>  sister>  had  he  then  these  deep  red  scars  all 

around  his  forehead  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  ;  or  we  should  have  observed  them  " 

«  And  look  at  his  hands !   They  have  the  same  marks 

01  wounds. 

m  "  But  angels  cannot  be  wounded ;   therefore,  dear 
sister,  he  is  not  an  archangel,  as  we  thought." 

"  Nay,  but  suppose  he  received  these  injuries  while 
seeking  to  prevent  some  unhappy  creatures  from  com- 
mitting sin,  or  in  preserving  unfortunate  beings,  like 
ourselves,  from  certain  death !" 

"Yes,  to  be  sure!   You  are  quite  right,  dear  sister. 
lJoubtless  he  has  incurred  much  harm  and  risk  in 
defence  of  those  he  protects,  as  he  does  us ;  and  oh 
how  noble  and  excellent  do  these  scars   make  him 
seem ! " 

"  Wnat  a  pity  he  has  not  opened  his  eyes  !  " 
"  They  look  so  kindly  and  gently  at  us." 
"  I  wonder  he  never  spoke  to  us  of  our  mother  during 
the  voyage."  ° 

"You  know  we  were  never  alone  with  him;  he  did 
not  like  to  mention  her  before  others." 
"  But  we  are  alone  now." 

« Shall  we  pray  to  him  to  tell  us  more  about  our 
beloved  parent  ? " 

At  these  words  the  orphans  exchanged  a  look  of  inno- 
cent confidence,  while  a  bright  glow  tinged  their  cheeks, 
and  an  indescribable  feeling  made  their  young  hearts 
beat  with  increased  quickness  beneath  the  black  robe 
which  covered  them. 

"  Yes,  yes,  sister,  dear ;  let  us  kneel,  and  beseech  him 
to  speak  to  us." 

"Oh  how  our  hearts  beat!"  said  Blanche,  feeling 
perfectly  sure  that  her  every  feeling  was  reciprocated 
by  her  sister;  "and  yet  it  is  a  happy  sensation  — is  it 
not,  dear  Rose?  — as  though  we  were  expecting  some 
great  blessing."  r  8 

331 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


The  two  sisters  approached  the  armchair  on  which 
the  young  priest  was  sleeping,  stepping  cautiously  on 
tiptoe,  and  then  kneeling  down,  one  on  each  side  of  him, 
held  up  their  clasped  hands,  as  in  fervent  supplication, 
forming  a  picture  an  artist  would  have  delighted  to 

Then  elevating  their  lovely  faces  towards  Gabriel, 
whispering  in  the  tender  voice  which  well  accorded 
with  the  youthful  sweetness  of  their  looks,  they  meekly 
uttered : 

«  Gabriel,  tell  us  of  our  mother." 

At  the  sound  of  his  name  the  missionary  gave  a  slight 
start,  half  opened  his  eyes,  and,  under  the  influence  of  a 
half  awakened  consciousness  of  what  was  passing  around 
him,  a  sudden  feeling  of  delight  possessed  him  at  the 
sight  of  the  two  fair  creatures  kneeling  at  his  feet,  and 
invoking  his  name  in  such  gentle  yet  sweet  voices. 

"Who  calls?"  said  he,  at  length,  awakening  thor- 
oughly, and  raising  his  head. 

"  'Tis  we  —  Rose  and  Blanche." 

It  was  now  Gabriel's  turn  to  blush,  as  he  recognised 
the  two  interesting  objects  his  hand  had  snatched  from 
a  watery  grave. 

«  Rise,  my  sisters  !  "  said  he,  at  length ;  "  you  should 
kneel  only  to  your  God  1"  . 

The  orphans,  in  prompt  obedience  to  his  words, 
instantly  rose  from  their  supplicating  position,  and 
placed  themselves  by  his  side,  each  holding  the  other 
by  the  hand. 

"  It  seems  you  know  my  name,"  said  the  young  mis- 
sionary, smiling  kindly  at  them. 
"  Oh,  yes  ;  we  could  not  forget  it." 
«  But  from  whom  did  you  learn  it  ? " 
"  From  yourself  !  " 
«  From  me  ? " 

« You  told  us  you  were  called  Gabriel,  when  you 
brought  us  the  message  from  our  mother ;  when  you 

•  332 


"  '  GABRIEL,   TELL  US  OF  OUR  MOTHER.' 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS. 


informed  us  she  had  sent  you  to  protect  us,  and  that 
you  would  ever  watch  over  us." 

"I,  my  sisters!"  cried  the  astonished  missionary, 
utterly  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  a  word  of  this  discourse' 
"  You  are  under  some  great  mistake.  I  see  you  to-dav 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life." 

"  And  in  our  dreams  you  have  visited  us." 

"Yes!  Now  do  you  not  recollect  visiting  us  in  our 
dreams  ? " 

"  The  first  time  you  came  was  in  Germany,  about 
three  months  ago.  Pray  look  at  us  well,  and  then,  I  am 
sure,  you  will  recollect  us." 

Gabriel,  spite  of  his  surprise,  could  not  restrain  a 
smile  at  the  simplicity  with  which  these  children  of 
nature  besought  him  to  recollect  the  dreams  which  had 
flitted  over  their  innocent  slumbers ;  then,  still  more  and 
more  perplexed,  he  exclaimed  : 
"  I  visited  you  in  your  dreams  ? " 
"  Yes,  when  you  gave  us  all  those  excellent  counsels  »  " 
«  And  even  when  we  suffered  so  much  sorrow,  in  our 
prison  even,  we  thought  of  all  the  good  advice  we  had 
received  from  you,  and  were  comforted  and  filled  with 
tresh  courage." 

«'  Was  it  not  you  who  freed  us  from  our  dungeon  at 
Leipsic,  that  dark  night,  that  we  could  not  even  discern 
you  ?" 
"  I  ?  " 

"  Yho  but  y°u  could  thus  have  come  to  our  help 
and  that  of  our  old  and  dear  friend  ? " 

"We  told  him  truly,  that  we  were  sure  you  would  love 
him,  because  he  so  tenderly  loved  us,  although  he  cared 
so  little  about  angels  !  " 

"  And  all  this  morning,  during  the  raging  of  the 
storm,  we  were  scarcely  at  all  afraid." 

"  We  were  certain  you  would  come  to  save  us  '  " 

"Yes  my  sisters,  the  Almighty  did,  this  day,  most 
graciously  send  me  to  your  assistance.    I  was  returning 

333  8 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


from  America,  but  I  have  never  been  at  Leipsic  in  my 
life ;  it  could  not,  therefore,  have  been  me  who  liberated 
you  from  prison.  Tell  me,  my  sisters,"  continued  he, 
smiling  with  tender  kindness  on  the  two  orphans,  "  for 
whom  do  you  take  me?" 

"  For  a  good  angel,  whom  we  have  already  seen  in 
our  dreams,  and  whom  our  dear  mother  has  sent  from 
heaven  to  protect  us." 

"  My  dear  sisters,  I  am  only  a  poor  priest,  who,  by 
some  chance,  doubtless,  resembles  an  angel  you  have 
seen  in  your  dreams,  where  alone  you  can  see  him,  —  for 
mortals,  such  as  we  are,  are  not  permitted  to  behold 
the  dwellers  of  heaven  !  " 

"  Then  we  cannot  see  our  mother's  angel,  except  in 
a  dream ! "  said  the  sisters,  looking  sorrowfully  at  each 
other. 

"  Heed  not  that,  my  dear  sisters,"  said  Gabriel,  affec- 
tionately, taking  the  hands  of  the  young  girls  within  his 
own  ;  "  dreams,  like  everything  else,  proceed  from  God ; 
and  since  the  remembrance  of  your  mother  was  mingled 
with  yours,  bless  him  doubly  for  sending  it." 

At  this  instant  a  door  opened,  and  Dagobert  appeared. 

Up  to  the  present  moment,  the  innocent  pride  the 
orphans  felt  in  the  idea  of  being  protected  by  an  arch- 
angel had  made  them  entirely  overlook  the  circumstance 
they  had  heard,  through  Dagobert,  of  his  wife  having 
adopted  and  brought  up  a  deserted  child,  named  Gabriel, 
who  was  now  a  priest  and  a  missionary. 

The  soldier,  although  he  obstinately  persisted  in 
declaring  his  hurt  was  nothing  but  a  white  wound  (to 
use  a  favorite  term  of  General  Simon),  had  been  most 
carefully  attended  to  by  the  surgeon  of  the  village,  and 
then  wore  a  black  bandeau  around  his  forehead,  which 
increased  the  natural  repulsiveness  of  his  features. 

Great  was  his  surprise,  upon  entering  the  apartment, 
to  behold  a  stranger  familiarly  clasping  the  hands  of 
Blanche  and  Rose  within  his  own  ;  and  this  astonishment 

334 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS. 


may  be  conceived,  when  it  is  known  that  Dagobert  was 
perfectly  ignorant  of  Gabriel's  having  saved  the  lives  of 
the  orphans,  as  well  as  of  his  having  attempted  to  save 
his  own,  during  the  horrors  of  the  wreck.    While  toss 
mg  among  the  waves,  and  vainly  striving  to  cling  to  the 
rocks  against  which  he  was  flung,  the  soldier  had  only 
very  indistinctly  perceived  Gabriel,  when,  after  having 
snatched  the  sisters  from  a  certain  death,  he  had  strug- 
gled hard  and  fruitlessly  to  come  to  his  succour.  And 
when,  after  being  conveyed  to  the  chateau,  Dagobert  had 
found  the  sisters  in  safety,  fatigue,  emotion,  and  the  pain 
ot  his  wound  so  entirely  overpowered  him  as  to  throw 
him  into  a  state  of  utter  unconsciousness,  so  that  he  had 
not  observed  the  presence  of  Gabriel. 

»,  °fJ^  bandaSe>  which  nearly  covered  his  fore- 

head, the  thick,  gray,  shaggy  brows  of  the  veteran  ex- 
pressed by  their  deep  furrows,  his  surprise  and  displeasure 
at  beholding  a  stranger  so  familiarly  holding  the  hands 
of  Rose  and  Blanche;  but  directly  the  sisters  perceived 
him,  they  rushed  towards  him,  threw  themselves  into  his 
arms,  and  caressed  him  with  the  loving  fondness  of 
children  welcoming  a  beloved  parent.  His  anger  was 
qmckly  dissipated  by  these  tender  marks  of  affection, 
although  he  continually  kept  glancing  in  a  suspicious 
manner  towards  the  young  missionary,  who  had  now 
risen  from  his  seat,  and  was  so  placed  that  his  counte- 
nance could  not  be  perfectly  distinguished. 

"And  bow  is  your  wound  ?  „  mquired  ^  anxious, 

we  learnt  that,  happily,  it  was  not  dangerous." 

Does  it  still  give  you  pain  ?  »  asked  Blanche,  tenderly. 
™n      '  mji  Jchlldren  >  but  the  commanding  officer  of  the 

ner.  Why  if  I  had  had  my  head  sliced  all  over  with 
sabre  cuts,  I  would  not  have  made  all  this  fuss  about  it. 
I  look  like  an  affected  old  milksop,  with  all  this  bandag- 

want  this  thing  in  my  eyes.    I  wish  particularly  to  see 

335 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


who  "    Saying  these  words,  the  soldier  seized  his 

bandage,  as  though  about  to  remove  it. 

Rose  eagerly  caught  his  arm.  "  Will  you  leave  that 
alone  ? "  cried  she.  "  At  your  age  to  be  so  foolish  and 
unreasonable  !    Oh,  fie  !  " 

«  Well,  don't  scold,  and  I  will  do  as  you  —  I  will  not 
take  this  thing  off  my  head,  if  you  say  I  must  not ! " 
Then  drawing  the  sisters  into  a  corner  of  the  room,  he 
said  to  them,  looking  towards  the  young  priest  from  the 
corner  of  his  eye  : 

«  Who  was  that  gentleman  who  was  holding  you  by 
the  hands  when  I  came  in  ?  He  looks  like  a  clergyman. 
But  you  see,  my  children,  you  must  be  careful  how  you 
make  acquaintances  with  people,  because  —  " 

"  Who  is  that  gentleman  ? "  exclaimed  the  sisters, 
both  at  once.  "  Why,  without  him  we  should  never  have 
had  the  happiness  of  embracing  you  again." 

«  What  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  the  soldier,  suddenly 
drawing  up  his  tall  figure,  and  eagerly  observing  the 
missionary. 

"  It  is  our  guardian'  angel !  "  added  Blanche.  "  But 
for  his  timely  aid  we  should  have  perished  in  this  morn- 
ing's wreck."  • 

«  Can  it  be  possible  —  can  it  indeed  be  he  ! 

Dagobert  could  say  no  more;  his  heart  seemed  to 
swell  almost  to  bursting ;  tears  filled  his  eyes,  and  rush- 
ing, with  extended  hands,  to  the  missionary,  he  exclaimed, 
in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion  and  gratitude  impossible  to 
describe  * 

"  Sir,  I  owe  you  the  lives  of  these  dear  children.  I 
know  the  heavy  debt  of  everlasting  gratitude  it  lays  me 
under.  I  will  not  attempt  to  say  more,  because  these 
words  comprise  every  expression  I  could  use." 

But,  as  though  suddenly  struck  with  a  recollection  ot 
the  past,  he  cried,  «  But,  tell  me,  was  it  not  you  who, 
when  I  was  trying  to  cling  to  a  rock,  to  prevent  myselt 
from  being  carried  away  by  the  waves  —  was  it  not  you 

336 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS. 


who  held  out  your  hand  ?  Yes,  certainly !  I  am  quite 
sure,  now  I  see  your  light  hair,  your  youthful  counte- 
nance —  yes,  yes  ;  you  it  was,  indeed  !  Now  I  perfectly 
recognise  you." 

"  Unhappily,  sir,  my  strength  wholly  failed  me,  and  I 
had  the  grief  to  see  you  fall  back  again  into  the  sea." 

"  I  can  offer  you  no  further  thanks  than  I  have  already 
done,"  said  Dagobert,  with  touching  simplicity ;  "  in 
preserving  these  dear  children  for  me,  you  have  done  a 
hundred  times  more  to  claim  my  gratitude  than  had  you 
saved  my  life  over  and  over  again !  But  what  courage ! 
What  a  noble  spirit !  "  cried  the  soldier,  with  admiration ; 
"  and  so  young,  and  with  a  look  gentle  and  modest  as  a 
young  maiden ! " 

"  What !  "  inquired  Blanche,  joyfully ;  «  did  our  Ga- 
briel come  to  your  assistance  also  ? " 

"  Gabriel !  "  said  Dagobert,  interrupting  Blanche,  and 
addressing  himself  to  the  priest.  "Is  your  name 
Gabriel?" 

"  It  is,  sir. " 

"  Gabriel ! "  repeated  the  soldier,  becoming  each  in- 
stant more  and  more  surprised.  "And  a  priest?" 
added  he;  "a  foreign  missionary?  And  who  brought 
you  up  ? " 

"  An  excellent  and  generous  woman,  whom  I  venerate 
as  the  best  of  mothers ;  for  such  she  has  ever  been  to 
me,  since,  a  poor  deserted  babe,  she  first  took  pity  on 
my  helpless  state,  and  reared  and  treated  me  as  her  own 
son." 

"You  mean  Francoise  Baudoin,  do  you  not?"  said 
the  veteran,  deeply  moved. 

"  1  d°  "  replied  Gabriel,  in  his  turn  greatly  astonished. 
"  But  how  do  you  know  this  ?  " 

"  She  is  the  wife  of  a  soldier,  is  she  not  ? "  pursued 
Dagobert. 

"  She  is,  indeed,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  bravest  of  men, 
who,  from  a  spirit  of  noble  devotion,  is  passing  his  life  in 

337 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


exile  far  from  his  wife  and  son,  my  dear  and  excellent 
brother  —  for  proud,  indeed,  I  am  to  call  him  by  that 
name." 

"When,  oh,  when  did  you  quit  my  Agricola  —  my 
wife?" 

"  Can  it  be  possible  ?  Can  you  be,  indeed,  the  father 
of  Agricola  ?  Oh,  I  knew  not,  until  now,  the  debt  of 
gratitude  I  owed  to  God ! "  cried  Gabriel,  joining  his 
hands  with  an  expression  of  deep  thankfulness. 

"  And  my  wife  !  My  child !  "  resumed  Dagobert,  in  a 
tremulous  voice  ;  "  oh,  tell  me  they  are  well !  Is  it  long 
since  you  heard  from  them  ? " 

"The  last  accounts  I  received,  now  about  three 
months  ago,  were  as  good  as  you  could  wish." 

"  This  is  too  much,  almost,"  sobbed  the  old  soldier, — 
"  this  joy  is  more  than  I  can  bear." 

And,  unable  to  bear  the  sudden  rush  of  happiness  in 
his  present  weakened  state,  the  veteran  sunk  back  in  his 
chair. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  the  sisters  called  to  mmd  the 
letter  of  their  father  relative  to  the  wife  of  Dagobert 
having  adopted  a  deserted  child,  and  bestowed  upon  it 
the  name  of  Gabriel ;  at  this  recollection,  and  happy 
conviction,  that  the  very  Gabriel  of  her  fostering  stood 
before  them,  their  delight  knew  no  bounds. 

"Then  our  Gabriel  and  yours  is  the  same!"  cried 
Rose,  throwing  her  arm  around  the  old  man's  neck. 
"Oh,  what  joy!    What  happiness!" 

"Yes,  my  darlings;  he  belongs  to  us  all  equally." 
Then  addressing  Gabriel  the  soldier  said,  with  passionate 
emotion,  "  My  child,  my  noble,  intrepid  child !  give  me 
your  hand!  My  own  boy  — for  are  you  not  my  Agri- 
cola's  brother  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  what  goodness  is  this  !  " 

"  Come,  come ;  no  thanks,  if  you  please,  after  all^you 
have  done  for  me  —  after  the  heavy  debt  I  owe  you." 

"  And  is  my  adopted  mother  aware  of  your  return  to 

338 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS. 


France?"  inquired  Gabriel,  to  escape  from  the  praises  of 
the  soldier. 

"  1  wrote  to  her  about  five  months  since  to  apprise  her 
of  it,  but  said  I  should  return  alone.  I  will  tell  you 
hereafter  my  reasons  for  so  doing.  Does  she  still 
reside  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche  ?  It  was  there  my 
Agricola  was  born." 

"  She  does." 

"  In  that  case  she  must  have  received  my  letter.  I 
would  have  written  to  her  from  my  prison  at  Leipsic 
but  I  found  it  utterly  impossible."  ' 
a  "In  prison!     Can  you  have  been  suffering  from 
'  imprisonment?" 

"  Yes ;  I  came  from  Germany  by  the  Elbe  and  Ham- 
burg, and  I  should  be  at  Leipsic  now,  but  for  an  event 
which  would  make  one  believe  in  the  devil  —  only  a  devil 
of  a  good  sort." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Pray  explain  this  event  to  me." 
m  «  That  would  be  difficult,  for  I  cannot  even  explain 
it  to  myself ;  but  these  two  young  ladies,"  added  he 
pointing  smilingly  to  Rose  and  Blanche,  « pretend  to' 
know  more  about  it  than  I  do,  and  are  continually 
saying  to  me,  'It  was  the  good  archangel  that  came  to 
our  relief ;  Dagobert,  it  was  our  guardian  angel,  we  tell 
you.  Now  will  you  persist  in  declaring  that  Killjoy  is 
the  best  defender  we  can  possibly  have  ? '  " 

"Gabriel,  I  await  you ! "  suddenly  uttered  a  stern 
harsh  voice,  which  made  the  missionary  start. 

The  whole  party  quickly  turned  to  where  the  voice 
proceeded  from,  while  Killjoy  growled  his  usual  deep 
note  of  approaching  danger. 

The  words  had  been  spoken  by  M.  Rodin,  who  was 
standing  at  an  open  door  which  communicated  with  the 
corridor.  His  features  were  cold,  calm,  and  impassive, 
as  usual ;  while  his  piercing  glance  rapidly  surveyed  the 
soldier  and  the  two  sisters. 

"  Who  is  this  man?"  inquired  Dagobert,  from  the  first 

339 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


glimpse  of  M.  Rodin's  countenance  disliking  the  sin- 
gularly unprepossessing  and  sinister  expression  it  wore. 
"  What  does  he  want  with  you  ? " 

« I  must  depart  with  him,"  answered  Gabriel,  in 
a  constrained  and  mournful  tone.  Then  addressing 
Rodin,  he  said,  "  A  thousand  pardons,  sir !  I  will  attend 
you  instantly." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Dagobert,  stupefied  with  astonish- 
ment ;  "  depart  the  very  instant  we  meet  after  so  long 
an  absence !  No,  no !  I  swear  you  shall  never  go !  I 
have  too  much  to  inquire  of  you,  and  to  tell  you.  Come, 
come,  my  boy,  let  us  bear  each  other  company,  and 
enjoy  each  other's  society  through  the  journey  to 
Paris." 

"  Alas,  it  is  impossible  !  He  (pointing  to  Rodin)  is  my 
superior,  and  I  must  perforce  obey." 

"Your  superior!  Why,  he  is  dressed  in  plain 
clothes  ?" 

"  He  is  not  obliged  to  wear  an  ecclesiastical  dress." 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !  Since  he  is  not  in  uniform,  and  you 
have  no  police  officer  in  your  service,  send  him  to  the 
right-about  —  blow  him  to  the  — " 

"  Believe  me,  resistance  is  useless ;  and  be  assured 
that,  were  it  left  to  my  own  choice,  whether  to  go  or 
remain,  I  would  not  hesitate  one  instant." 

"I  was  not  mistaken,  then,"  muttered  Dagobert, 
between  his  teeth,  "in  feeling  sure  that  man's  ill-look- 
ing visage  boded  no  good  to  any  one ; "  then  added, 
with  a  vexed  and  impatient  manner,  "  Shall  I  speak 
to  him  ?  I  tell  you  what,"  whispered  he  to  Gabriel, 
"if  you  will  give  me  leave,  I  will  just  politely  ask 
him  to  take  himself  off  as  quickly  as  he  can,  and  that 
the  faster  he  flies  out  of  the  way  the  better  we  shall 
like  it." 

"  1  entreat  of  you,"  said  Gabriel,  "  not  to  interfere  ;  it 
would  be  of  no  avail.  I  know  my  duty,  and  that  I  have 
no  will  but  that  of  my  superior.    Upon  my  arrival  at 

340 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS. 

l:^L:l^iXzrTaeli' my  adopted  motw' 

"Well,  if  it  must  be  so,  it  must  be !  I  have  been  a 
soldier  too  many  years  not  to  understand  what  subordi- 
nation means  "  said  Dagobert,  whose  irritated  manner 
strongly  belied  the  submission  he  professed.  «  We  must 
bear  these  contrarieties  with  courage,  -  take  the  fortune 
of  war  as  we  find  it  So  farewell,  my  brave  boy,  till  the 
day  after  to-morrow !  Then  don't  forget  the  Rue  Brise- 
Miche,  for  I  shall  assuredly  be  in  Paris  to-morrow 

dnectly.  I  say,  though,  you  seem  to  keep  up  a  strict 
discipline  in  your  corps  ! "  s 

«  lYe!"  Sfd  GabHel>  wi*h  an  involuntary  shudder- 
i^'Jfr  I*  m°St  ^ssively  rigid  and  severe." 
naH  stlned  sigh  accompanied  these  words 
"Well  then  let's  say  good-bye,  at  once.  Parting  is 
a  thing  I  don't  like,  because  I  can't  see  the  necessity 
fL  »ff  if ^  n6Ver  mind'  we  8haI1  soon  meet  again ; 

»a  h-v  f  ^  **  \  n0t  Wrth  While  fretting  about  a 
paltry  twenty-four  hours  which  will  soon  pass  away- 
won't  they,  my  children  ? "  P  7 

"Adieu,  adieu!"  replied  the  missionary,  in  a  voice 
tremulous  with  emotion,  and  affectionately  returning  the 
vehement  grasp  of  the  old  soldier's  hand  S 

"  Farewell,  Gabriel,"  murmured  the  orphans,  deeply 
sighing,  and  gazing  on  the  features  of  the  young  priest 
with  eyes  suffused  with  tears.  g  P 

resn^'  f SterS' my    ever    dear  sisters!" 

who  find  fT1'.  qmttinS  the  room  with  Rodin, 
scene  °ne  W°rd  °r  incident  of  this 

cuiS  ST"  afte7ards'  Dag°hert  and  the  orphans 

Dia  ™  S?i  e  *?  Pr°.°eed  t0  Paris'  ignorant  that 
Djalma  still  remained  at  Cardoville,  being  prevented  bv 

Jo1"6  mjUrieShe  had  recei-d  fromgcoPntinuing  his 

341 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

The  mulatto,  Faringhea,  unwilling,  as  he  said,  to 
abandon  a  fellow  countryman,  remained  to  watch  over 
the  young  prince. 

We  shall  now  conduct  the  reader  to  the  residence  of 
Dagobert's  wife,  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche. 


342 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

LA  RUE  BEISE-MICHE.  —  DAGOBERT'S  WIFE. 

The  day  following  the  fearful  storm  which  had 
thrown  the  poor  shipwrecked  travellers  on  the  benevo- 

astTe  the  fol.f^  °f        Uu*i*»*  °f  Ca« 
castle  the  following  transactions  occurred  in  Paris. 

Nothing  could  be  more  gloomy  or  suspicious-looking 

than  the  aspect  of  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  one  end  of 

which  led  into  the  Rue  St.  Merry,  and  the  other  into 

the  smal  square  of  the  cloisters  adjoining  the  church 

eiit  ftt  S     6  StTt  °r  lane'  which  was  sc^cely 
iliidS!  n'  Wt  ShU*  m  by  immense  black>  slimy, 
Km  ^lls'Th^e  excessive  height  effectually  shut 
out  both  hght  and  air;  even  during  the  longest  day  of 

fdrnffence  Xtb^  ^  f  S™beam  to  Ind 

admittance  into  this  dismal  spot,  while,  during  the  damn 

o  pert  lT  h6r'  a  tKiCk'  ChilMng  ^Ch  -«s 
obwtSl  +h    VCTy  b°neS'  pervaded  this  sP^ies  of 

Slpwpf;ipavement  of  which  ™ ever 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock,  and  the  faint,  lurid  light 

to  SsurArPend,ed  at  itS  entrance  couM  barely  serve 
h  J  f  /r    6  murkmess  of  the  night,  when  two  men 
half  hidden  in  an  angle  of  the  wall,  held  the  following 
discourse  with  each  other  •  mowing 

you^0YoUthoe,n/L0bS!Td  T'  "y°U  understand,  don't 
enter  nI  5."        Wat°h  m  the  street  m  y°u  **  them 
"  1  know,"  answered  the  other. 

343 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


«  And  when  you  have  seen  them  go  in,  in  order  to  be 
doubly  sure,  ascend  to  the  room  occupied  by  Franchise 
Baudoin,  under  pretext  of  asking  whether  the  little 
humpbacked  sempstress  lives  there  —  she  that  is  sister 
to  the  woman  known  as  the  <  Queen  of  the  Bacchanals.'  " 

«  All  right." 

"Mind,  you  must  be  sure  to  find  out  where  this 
Bacchanal  Queen  lives;  her  humpbacked  sister  will 
tell  you ;  and  such  persons  as  she  is  change  their  nest 
as  often  as  a  bird,  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  find  them 
when  wanted."  . 

«  Make  yourself  easy  ;  I  will  try  it  on  with  Humpy,  to 
get  out  of  her  where  her  sister  is  to  be  heard  of." 

«  Well,  then,  by  way  of  inspiring  you  with  fresh  reso- 
lution, I  will  await  your  return  at  the  little  public-house 
opposite  the  cloisters,  and  you  shall  have  your  share  of 
something  nice  and  hot  to  drink." 

"  That  is  too  good  an  offer  to  refuse,  for  it  is  very 

cold  to-night."  •  ... 

«  You  need  not  tell  me  that !  Why,  this  morning  the 
water  froze  upon  my  sprinkling  brush,  and  I  was  almost 
stiffened  like  a  mummy  in  my  chair  at  the  church  door. 
Ah,  my  boy,  it  is  no  sinecure  to  be  a  distributor  of  holy 
w"ater  " 

"If  it  were  not  for  the  nice  little  pickings  belonging 
to  the  office,  I  suppose  you  would  resign." 

«  Now,  then,  good  luck  attend  you  !  Don't  forget  No. 
5,  the  little  alley  beside  the  dyer's  shop." 

"  All  right !  All  right ! "  exclaimed  the  man,  as  the 
pair  separated,  the  one  to  proceed  towards  the  square  of 
the  cloisters,  the  other  to  take  the  opposite  end  ot  the 
lane,  where  it  led  into  the  Rue  St.  Merry.  It  was  no 
difficult  matter  to  find  the  number  sought,  — a  high,  nar- 
row building,  exhibiting  the  same  wretched  appearance 
as  the  other  houses  in  the  same  street.  Having  ascer- 
tained the  precise  tenement  he  wished  for,  the  man 
commenced  walking  backwards  and  forwards  before  its 

344 


LA  RUE  BRISE  -  MICHE. 


door.    If  the  exterior  of  these  houses  appeared  dull  and 
uninviting,  no  words  can  adequately  describe  the  squalor, 
the  gloom,  and  misery  of  the  interior.    No.  5  even  ex- 
ceeded its  neighbours  in  dirt  and  dilapidation.  The 
water,  which  oozed  from  the  walls,  trickled  down  the 
dark,  filthy  staircase.     On   the   second   floor   a  few 
bundles  of  straw  had  been  thrown  on  the  narrow  land- 
ing-place, for  the  purpose  of  wiping  the  feet  of  those 
compelled  to  ascend  the  muddy  stairs ;  but  this  straw 
now  reduced  to  mere  dung  by  wet  and  long  lying  there' 
augmented  the  sickening  accumulation  of  fetid  odours 
arising  from  want  of  air,  damp,  and  foul  exhalations; 
tor,  spite  of  a  few  openings  made  in  the  almost  ladder- 
like staircase,  it  was  but  seldom  a  beneficent  breath  of 
air  could  find  its  way,  and,  at  the  best,  a  dim  glimmer- 
ing light  strove  with  palpable  darkness  which  reigned 
around.  & 

In  this  neighbourhood,  one  of  the  most  densely  popu- 
lated  m  Pans,  such  houses  as  this  are  occupied  by  the 
working  classes,  who  congregate  in  masses  in  these 
wretched,  cheerless,  and  unwholesome  dwellings. 

No.  5  was  a  building  of  this  description. 

A  dyer  occupied  the  ground  floor,  the  deleterious 
vapours  from  his  workshop  increasing  the  stench  of  the 
whole  premises;  various  artisans,  with  their  families 
carried  on  their  different  trades  in  apartments  on  the 
upper  floors;  while  work-people,  of  either  sex,  dwelt  in 
small  or  large  rooms,  according  to  the  number  of  their 
party,  and  employed  themselves  in  earning  a  scantv 
living  as  they  best  could.  J 

A  chamber,  four  stories  high,  was  the  residence  of 
Francoise  Baudoin,  the  wife  of  Dagobert.  A  single 
candle  flickered  in  this  humble  abode,  consisting  of  a 
room  and  small  closet  adjoining.  Agricola  occupied 
a  small  garret  at  the  very  top  of  the  house 

The  old  crazy  walls  of  the  chamber  were  covered  with 
a  dingy  faded  paper,  which  had  divided  into  cracks  as 

345 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


the  plaster  gave  way  ;  in  one  corner  stood  the  bed,  while 
scanty  curtains,  running  on  an  iron  rod,  concealed  the 
miserable  windows  ;  the  floor,  from  being  washed  instead 
of  dry-rubbed,  had  assumed  the  appearance  of  being 
bricked ;  at  the  farther  end  was  a  round  iron  stove,  on 
which  was  placed  an  earthen  pot,  forming  the  whole  of 
the  culinary  apparatus ;  while  opposite  stood  a  wooden 
table,  painted  yellow,  and  ornamented  with  brown  stripes, 
in  imitation  of  marble,  while  on  it  stood  a  masterpiece 
of  patience,  skill,  and  ability,  in  the  shape  of  a  very 
minute  house,  made  of  iron,  every  component  part  oi 
which  had  been  fashioned  by  the  hand  of  Agricola 
Baudoin,  son  of  Dagobert. 

A  plaster  crucifix,  suspended  against  the  wall,  and  sur- 
rounded by  branches  of  the  blessed  box-tree,  various 
images  of  saints,  clumsily  designed,  and  coloured  m 
the  most  absurd  manner,  further  adorned  the  wretched 
chamber,  and  evinced  the  devotional  bias  of  its  occupant. 

Between  the  windows  stood  an  old-fashioned  walnut- 
tree  press,  black  with  age  ;  an  old  armchair,  covered 
with  faded  green  velvet  (Agricola's  first  present  to  his 
mother),  a  few  rush-bottomed  chairs,  and  a  work-table, 
on  which  lay  several  pieces  of  coarse  dyed  cloth,  com- 
pleted the  furniture  of  this  poor  room,  badly  secured  by 
an  old  worm-eaten  door  ;  the  adjoining  closet  merely 
contained  a  few  household  requisites.    Mean  and  slender 
as  this  description  may  appear,  it  yet  faithfully  paints 
the  interior  of  a  dwelling  that  to  many  labouring  persons 
would  seem  rich  in  comforts.    In  the  first  place,  the 
bed  boasted  of  two  mattresses,  good  clean  sheets,  warm 
blankets,  and  counterpane  ;  the  old-fashioned  walnut-tree 
press  contained  a  comfortable  supply  of  linen  for  every 
purpose;  and,  secondly,  the  wife  of  Dagobert  had,  tor 
her  own  exclusive  occupation,  a  room  as  large  as  those 
in  which  numerous  artisans,  with  large  families,  were 
compelled  all  to  huddle  together,  only  too  happy  if  their 
sons  and  daughters  could  be  accommodated  with  separate 

346 


LA  RUB  BRISE  -  MICHE. 

sleeping-places,  and  if  their  sheets  or  coverlets  were 

mltted  S  °TO  ,and  n0t'  b*  dire  necessity,  "om! 
mitted  to  the  guardianship  of  the  pawnbroker 

*rancoise  Baudoin,  seated  beside  the  little  stove 
fittie  walth  damp  aU  ^  «?B 

SfKSffl^ 111  preparing  the  eTCnin^ meal 

The  wife  of  Dagobert  was  about  fifty  years  of  aKe  • 
she  wore  a  short  jacket  of  blue  cotton,  with  small  white 
flounces  a  stuff  petticoat,  a  white  handkerchief  tied 
around  her  head,  and  fastened  under  her  chin  her 
countenance  was  pale  and  thin,  her  features  regular 
and  expressive  at  once  of  the  most  perfect  goodness 

^ood  tn/TV-681811^?-  A  better  or  moregactively 
good  and  industrious  mother  could  not  be  found  TJn- 

trived  SZeZ  fl°Wn  rraried  6ner^'  she  had  con- 
trived  by  the  labour  of  her  own  hands,  not  only  to 

whoCtw  "P  hei'  SOn  AgriC0k'  bu*  also  G^> 

who,  deserted  when  a  mere  infant,  found  a  friend,  and 

woman      Panmt'  *        nobl™ded  courageous 

«tin  +f  l°f  ?  had  in  a  manner  anticipated  the 
strength  of  future  days,  by  "devoting  herself  for  twelve 
successive  years  to  labour  which  was  rendered  lucrTt ve 
by  incessant  toil  and  exertions,  so  great  as  to  render  it 
te7lLmrS  ofkselWes^ctiom  And,  with  every 
self-denial  a  human  being  could  practise,  poor  Prancoise 
(and  be  it  remembered  that,  in  her  time" poor  artisans 
were  paid  splendidly  to  what  they  are  nowadaysfactu! 
ally  managed  to  earn  fifty  sous  (or  about  2.)  a  day' 
And  with  this  pittance  she  contrived  to  give  a  decent 
education  both  to  her  son  and  her  adoption  also 

At  the  end  of  twelve  years  her  health  was  ruined,  her 
52 V1  ht  eShaUSted  ;  but  at  least  hcr  boys  had 
suitabfe  to  tnh0thmfVand  6a*  had  received  a«  education 
Z « u  *  >  T  f tatl0n  m  life-  At  thi»  «me,  M.  Fran- 
cois Hardy  took  Agricola  as  an  apprentice,  while  Gabriel 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


prepared  to  enter  a  seminary,  under  the  active  patronage 
of  M  Rodin,  whose  constant  communications  with  the 
confessor  of  Francoise  Baudoin  had,  since  about  the  year 
lS^O  become  frequent  and  earnest. 

This  woman,  whose  piety  had  always,  however  unen- 
lightened, been  the  prevailing  feature  in  her  character, 
was  one  of  those  children  of  simplicity  and  perfect  good- 
ness, whose  ignorant,  yet  devoted  attachment  to  her 
faith  would  have,  in  earlier  ages,  gained  for  hex  the 
wreath  of  martyrdom,  -  one  of  those  pure  and  heavenly 
minds,  in  whose  untaught  breasts  instinct  almost  supplies 

"^o^onTv  evil  consequence  resulting  from  this  blind 
bi-otry  was  the  most  perfect  determination,  amounting 
toobstinacy,  when  Francoise  thought  herself  called  upon 
to  obey  the  spiritual  guide  to  whom  for  so  many  years 
she  had  Yielded  implicit  submission;  and  believing  his 
word,  his  command,  as  emanating  from  a  Being  her  very 
soul  adored,  no  power,  no  representation,  could  have 
induced  her  to  dispute  it;  had  even  any  discuss  on 
arisen  on  the  subject,  no  earthly  inducement  could  have 
moved  her  from  her  fixed  resolve  to  follow  unquestion- 
ing the  path  marked  out  by  her  confessor;  her  resist 
ance  would  have  been,  like  herself,  calm,  still,  and 
resolved -like  her  conscience,  firm  and  uncompromising. 

In  a  word,  Francoise  Baudoin  was  one  of  those  pure- 
minded,  devoted,  but  ignorant  and  credulous  persons 
who  may  sometimes,  even  unconsciously,  become,  m 
wicked  hands,  the  unwitting  instruments  of  fearful 


For  some  time  past,  the  ill  state  of  her  health  and 
above  all,  the  serious  injury  her  eyesight  had  received 
from  her  unceasing  toil,  had  compelled  her,  agamst ^her 
will,  to  rest  from  her  labours;  and,  now  that  she  could 
with  difficulty  work  above  two  or  three  hours  a  day,  she 
passed  all  the  rest  of  her  time  at  church. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  moments  Francoise  arose,  laid  all 


LA  RUE  BRISE  -  MICHE. 


the  fragments  of  coarse  cloth,  at  which  she  had  been 
working  at  one  side  of  the  table,  and  proceeded  to  lay 
the  cloth  for  her  son's  supper  with  the  most  maternal 
solicitude.    She  took  from  the  press  a  small  leathern 
bag,  containing  an  old  battered  silver  cup,  and  a  slight 
fork  and  spoon,  so  thin  and  so  much  worn  that  the  ed«-e 
of  the  spoon  was  sharp  as  that  of  a  knife ;  these  she 
diligently  wiped  and  polished,  and  placed  her  silver  ser- 
vice (Dagobert's  wedding  present  to  her)  beside  the  plate 
of  her  son.    These  articles,  independent  of  the  trifling 
intrinsic  value  attached  to  them,  were  the  most  precious 
of  all  Franchise's  earthly  possessions,  from  the  endearino- 
associations  connected  with  them,  and  bitter  had  been 
the  tears  shed  by  her  when,  under  the  pressure  of  some 
unexpected  misfortune,  such  as  illness,  or  cessation  from 
employment,  she  had  been  compelled  to  carry  these 
treasures  to  the  pawnbroker's. 

.  These  Preparations  completed,  Francoise  a  second 
time  repaired  to  the  closet,  and  from  the  lower  shelf 
took  a  bottle  of  water,  and  another  about  two-thirds  full 
of  wine,  both  of  which  she  placed  beside  her  son's  plate 
and  then  resumed  her  place  to  watch  his  supper. 

Although  the  hour  for  Agricola's  return  was  but  little 
past,  yet  the  countenance  of  the  mother  expressed  both 
uneasiness  and  sorrow ;  and  it  was  easy  to  perceive  by 
her  red  and  swollen  eyes,  that  that  grief  had  found  vent 
in  heavy  weeping.  Alas!  the  poor  woman,  after  long 
painful  uncertainty,  had  just  arrived  at  the  distressing 
conviction  that  her  eyesight,  which  had  been  long  fail- 
ing her,  would  ere  long  prevent  her  from  working  even 
the  two  or  three  hours  she  had  latterly  been  enabled  to 
do. 

A  most  excellent  needlewoman  in  her  youth,  in  pro- 
portion as  her  eyesight  failed  her  she  was  compelled 
to  relinquish  the  finer  description  of  employment,  and 
merely  take  work  of  a  coarser  sort,  for  which  the  pay 
was  necessarily  less,  till,  at  the  period  of  her  appearing 

349 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


before  the  reader,  her  only  occupation  was  in  making 
sacks  for  the  army,  which  required  sewing  about  twelve 
feet  around,  the  price  for  making  of  which  was  two  sous 
apiece,  she  finding  her  own  thread,  etc. ;  this  work  being 
both  troublesome  and  painful  to  the  fingers,  she  could 
not  at  the  utmost  earn  above  six  sous  a  day. 

It  is  o-rievous  to  think  of  the  great  number  of  unhappy 
females^ whose  ill  health,  many  privations,  old  age,  or 
sickness  have  so  weakened  their  bodily  strength,  that  it 
is  with  extreme  difficulty  they  can  even  earn  this  paltry 
pittance.  It  would  seem  as  though  their  gams  de- 
creased at  the  very  period  when,  from  years  and  infirmi- 
ties, their  wants  are  daily  increasing. 

Happily  for  Francoise  she  had  a  most  excellent  prop 
in  her  son.  A  first-rate  workman,  and  thankfully  profit- 
mo-  by  all  the  privileges  granted  by  M.  Hardy  to  those 
who  chose  to  work  over-hours,  his  labour  brought  m  as 
much  as  five  or  six  francs  a  day,  — at  least  double  that 
gained  bv  his  fellow  workmen;  therefore,  admitting 
that  his  'mother  gained  nothing,  he  could  well  have 
maintained  them  both. 

But  the  poor  woman,  so  economical  and  seli-denymg 
as  to  refuse  even  necessaries  for  herself,  had,  since  her 
daily  and  assiduous  visits  to  the  sacristy,  exhibited 
habits  of  the  most  ruinous  expense.  Scarcely  a  day 
passed  in  which  she  did  not  cause  two  or  three  masses 
to  be  said,  or  tapers  to  be  burnt,  either  in  reference  to 
Dao-obert,  from  whom  she  had  been  so  long  separated, 
or  else  for  the  safety  of  her  son's  soul,  which  she  shud- 
dered to  believe  was  in  the  high  road  to  perdition. 

Agricola  possessed  so  good,  so  generous  a  heart,  and 
so  tenderly  did  he  love  and  revere  his  parent,  and  so 
deeply  did  he  sympathise  with  her  many  sorrows,  both 
of  bodv  and  mind,  that  never  once  did  he  murmur  at 
seeing  his  week's  earnings,  the  whole  of  which  he  regu- 
larly Cgave  to  his  parent,  thus  appropriated  to  pious 
purposes. 


350 


LA  RUE  BRISE-MICHE. 

Occasionally  only  had  he  ventured  to  remark  to  his 
mother  (with  as  much  respect  as  tenderness)  that  it 
deeply  pained  him  to  see  her,  at  her  age,  denying  herself 
those  comforts  her  years  and  failing  health  doubly  de- 
manded, that  she  might  expend  the  means  required  for 
her  own  comfort  in  devotional  purposes. 

But  what  could  he  say  further,  when  his  fond  and 
exemplary  parent  would  say  to  him.  with  eyes  overflow- 
ing with  tears,  «  My  child,  it  is  to  procure  your  eternal 
welfare  and  that  of  your  father  ?  " 

To  attempt  to  argue  with  Francoise  as  to  the  efficacy 
of  masses  or  candles  in  securing  the  past  or  present  sal- 
vation of  Dagobert,  would  have  been  to  open  a  contro- 
versy which  Agrieola,  out  of  respect  for  his  mother's 
implicit  belief  in  the  sincerity  of  her  religious  notions, 
had  ever  carefully  abstained  from  touching  upon ;  he 
therefore,  gave  up  the  dear  enjoyment  of  those  visions' 
of  ease  and  happiness  for  his  dear  mother,  which  had 
nerved  his  arm  to  extra  toil,  and  made  all  labour  sweet, 
in  the  fond  hope  of  providing  every  enjoyment  for  her 
old  age. 

To  a  low,  cautious  tap  at  the  door,  the  voice  of  Fran- 
chise merely  answered,  «  Come  in  !  " 
The  visitor  entered. 


351 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN. 


The  person  who  entered  at  Franchise's  bidding  was  a 
young  woman  of  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  diminutive 
in  stature,  and  cruelly  deformed.    Without  being  abso- 
lutely humpbacked,  her  figure  was  entirely  awry ;  she 
stooped  excessively,  — so  much,  indeed,  as  to  cause  her 
chest  to  fall  inwards  in  a  complete  hollow,  while  her 
head  was  completely  buried  between  her  shoulders.  The 
features  which  composed  her  countenance  were  toler- 
ably good  and  regular,  but  the  face  itself  was  long,  thin, 
and  pallid,  deeply  marked  with  the  smallpox,  yet  express- 
ive of  the  utmost  sweetness  and  gentle  resignation.  By 
a  strange  caprice,  nature  had  bestowed  on  this  disfigured 
head  hair  so  beautiful  and  luxuriant  as  might  have  ex- 
cited the  envy  of  any  modern  belle,  and  which  she  wore 
in  one  thick,  lustrous  plait,  twisted  again  and  again  around 
her  head,  and  ultimately  forming  a  rich,  bright  knot  at 
the  back  of  it.  . 

She  carried  an  old  basket  in  her  hand.  Though  mis- 
erably clad,  the  neatness  and  cleanliness  of  her  apparel 
struggled  powerfully  with  the  meanness  of  her  attire. 
Spite  of  the  extreme  cold,  she  was  dressed  only  m  a 
cotton  gown  of  indefinable  colour,  spotted  over  with 
some  kind  of  light  flowers  or  dots;  but  from  the  fre- 
quent washing  of  the  garment  its  primitive  hue,  as  we 
as  pattern,  was  so  completely  effaced  as  to  render  all 
guesses  on  the  subject  fruitless. 


352 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN. 

It  was  easy  to  read  in  the  deep  expression  of  resigned 
suffering,  so  strongly  marked  on  the  features  of  this 
poor  girl,  a  long  and  habitual  endurance  of  slio-hts  mis- 
eries, pain,  and  contempt.    Prom  her  very  birth  she  had 
been  an  object  for  all  the  bitter  jests  and  jeers  the  vulgar 
and  the  coarse-minded  are  accustomed  to  bestow  on 
bodily  deformity,  wholly  forgetful  from  whose  hand  such 
a  visitation  cometh ;  and,  in  consequence  of  the  dread- 
ful distortion  of  her  figure,  had  even  been  nicknamed 
Humpy,    an  appellation  which  at  length  became  the 
only  title  by  which  she  was  ever  addressed.    And  so 
completely  did  custom  familiarise  even  her  friends  with 
a  name,  the  very  uttering  of  which  must  ever  remind 
tlie  unfortunate  being  of  her  severe  affliction,  that  even 
Gabriel  and  Agncola,  as  kind  and  compassionate  towards 
her  as  others  were  unfeeling  and  brutal,  never  called  her 
by  any  other. 

«  Humpy,"  as  we  shall  henceforward  style  her,  had 
been  bom  in  the  house  in  which  Dagobert's  wife  had 
resided  for  the  last  twenty  years;  so  that  the  poor  girl 

Gabriel  *  ^  br°Ught  "P  with  Agricola  and 

It  would  appear  as  though  there  existed  some  unfortu- 
nate beings  doomed  to  misfortune  from  their  very  birth 
Humpy  had  a  very  beautiful  sister,  on  whom  their 
mother,  Pemne  Sohveau,  the  widow  of  a  small  ruined 
tradesman, lavished  all  her  blind  and  absurd  affection- 
bestowing  on  her  less-favoured  child  only  contempt,  dis- 
like, and  ill-usages.    Frequently  would  the  poor  weeping 

Y,I1\  aT  r°m  hCT  m0ther's  Presence,  fly  to  the  kind- 
hearted  Francmse,  who  permitted  her  to  shed  her  tears 
ot  bitterness  on  her  maternal  bosom;  then  kindly  con- 
soling and  encouraging  her,  would  divert  her  mind  from 

SSt?"  hlr  Painful  P°sition'  V  instructing 
W  in  all  she  knew  herself,  namely,  to  read  and  to 

Accustomed  by  their  mother's  example  to  pity  and 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


commiserate  poor  little  Humpy,  Gabriel  and  Agricola, 
far  from  imitating  the  rude  jeers  and  insulting  language 
of  other  boys  of  their  age,  who  would  even  proceed  to 
inflict  blows  on  the  unoffending  girl,  took  delight  in 
showing  her  every  kindness  in  defending  and  protecting 
her. 

Matters  proceeded  thus  till  the  sisters  had  reached  the 
respective  ages  of  fifteen  and  seventeen,  when  their 
mother  died,  leaving  them  both  in  a  state  of  the  greatest 
destitution. 

Cephyse  was  a  good-hearted  girl,  though  ridiculously 
spoiled  and  indulged  by  her  mother.  She  was  clever, 
intelligent,  and  active,  though  in  mind  and  character  as 
completely  dissimilar  to  her  sister  as  she  was  unlike  her 
in  person.  She  was  one  of  those  restless,  vivacious 
natures,  whose  animal  spirits  are  ever  overflowing,  and 
requiring  constant  bustle,  excitement,  and  diversion,  to 
keep  them  up  to  the  same  level. 

For  some  time  submitting  to  the  sage  counsels  of 
Francoise,  Cephyse  tried  to  restrain  her  love  of  pleasure 
and  ease,  and  to  submit  herself  to  the  privations  of  her 
orphan  state.  She  too  acquired  under  the  same  kind 
tuition  as  her  sister  a  knowledge  of  plain  sewing,  and  for 
a  whole  year  managed  to  maintain  herself  by  the  produce 
of  her  needle  ;  but  unable  to  endure  the  severe  self-denial 
she  was  constrained  to  practice,  and  finding  that,  spite 
of  her  most  assiduous  efforts,  she  could  scarcely  provide 
the  merest  necessaries  of  life,  Cephyse,  young,  beautiful, 
and  impetuous,  beset  with  seductive  propositions  and 
brilliant  offers,  — for  so  they  appeared  to  the  young 
sempstress,  when  they  promised  her  abundance  of  food, 
an  assurance  of  being  preserved  from  the  severity  of  the 
cold,  comfortable  clothing,  and  an  exemption  from  work- 
ing at  least  fifteen  hours  a  day  in  a  wretched,  close,  and 
unhealthy  garret,  —  yielded  at  length  to  the  impassioned 
vows  of  a  young  clerk  in  an  attorney's  office,  who  for- 
sook her  ere  long;  when  she  transferred  herself  and 

354 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN. 


her  charms  to  the  protection  of  a  merchant's  clerk,  and 
fickle,  in  her  turn,  quitted  him  for  a  travelling  clerk, 
and,  guided  by  whim  and  natural  volatility,  changed  her 
lover  almost  as  frequently  as  she  did  the  fashion  of  her 
robe. 

Briefly,  after  a  year  or  two  of  alternate  changes  and 
varieties  in  her  loves  and  lovers,  Cephyse  had  become 
the  idol  of  a  world  composed  of  grisettes,  students,  and 
clerks ;  and  so  great  was  the  fame  and  celebrity  she  had 
obtained  in  all  the  bals  des  barrieres  by  her  decided  tone 
and  manner,  by  her  really  original  humour,  her  indefat- 
igable ardour  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and,  above  all, 
for  her  frolicsome  gaiety  and  inexhaustible  flow  of  spirits, 
that  she  was  unanimously  styled  "The  Bacchante 
Queen,"  —  a  dignity  she  showed  herself  capable  of  sup- 
porting in  its  most  minute  detail. 

From  the  period  of  her  sister's  accession  to  this  noisy 
species  of  royal  elevation,  poor  Humpy  heard  of  her  only 
by  chance,  and  at  long  intervals.  She  deeply  deplored 
her  wretched  mode  of  life,  and  sincerely  praying  she 
might  soon  quit  it,  the  patient  girl  devoted  herself  with 
unceasing  industry  to  her  needle,  as  a  means  of  live- 
lihood; but,  alas!  working  sixteen  or  eighteen  hours 
a  day,  the  utmost  she  could  earn  was  four  francs  a 
week. 

Humpy's  employment  consisted  in  making,  by  Fran- 
chise's instruction,  coarse  shirts  for  the  army  and  work- 
ing classes,  for  which  her  payment  was  three  francs 
(2s.  6d)  a  dozen !  Yet  she  was  expected  to  make  them 
neatly;  to  stitch  the  collars,  wristbands,  etc.,  to  attend 
carefully  that  the  form  and  sloping  of  each  piece  was 
accurately  done,  to  overcast  the  buttonholes,  and  sew 
on  buttons,  etc ;  so  that,  working  without  intermission 
the  hours  stated,  she  could  barely  complete  fourteen  or 
sixteen  shirts  in  eight  days,  including  even  the  Sunday 
as  a  day  of  toil.  The  result  of  all  these  weary  hours  of 
continued  labour  was  an  income  of  four  francs  a  week. 

355 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Neither  was  this  poor  girl's  case  a  peculiar  or  isolated 
one.  No;  thousands  of  young  women  could  no  more 
then  than  now  earn  a  larger  sum. 

Who  will  deny,  after  this  plain  statement,  that  the 
mode  of  remunerating  females  is  as  unjust  as  it  is  cruel, 
cold-hearted,  and  unworthy  of  a  civilised  age?  They 
receive  just  half  the  pay  of  men  who  occupy  themselves 
with  their  needle,  such  as  tailors,  waistcoat-makers, 
glovers,  etc.  Yet  women  work  an  equal  number  of 
hours,  are  weak,  delicate,  liable  to  fall  sick  from  too 
close  an  application  to  their  needle,  and  are  frequently 
compelled,  in  addition  to  their  work,  to  provide  for  the 
little  household  wants  of  the  family  —  possibly  have 
young  sickly  children. 

And  Humpy  continued  to  live  upon  her  four  francs  a 
week!  True  she  lived,  that  is  to  say  that,  by  dint  of  toil- 
ing incessantly  fourteen  or  sixteen  hours  a  day,  she  did 
manage  to  avoid  being  actually  starved  to  death,  or  per- 
ishing with  the  cold.  But  the  privations  she  endured! 
No  ;  privations  will  not  sufficiently  express  the  wretched- 
ness, the  destitution,  the  daily  and  hourly  need  of  nearly 
all  that  is  really  required  to  preserve  the  body  in  health, 
to  keep  alive  that  vital  spark,  breathed  into  man  by  the 
breath  of  God,  —  that  is  to  say,  a  safe  and  weather-proof 
dwelling,  wholesome  and  sufficient  food,  with  warm, 
cleanly  garments.  Mortification  would  better  express 
the  total  want  of  those  comforts,  essentially  and  impera- 
tively needful  for  the  prolongation  of  our  existence,  and 
which  in  an  enlightened  age,  such  as  the  present,  ought 
to  be  cheerfully  accorded  to  the  active  and  industrious 
workman  or  woman,  whose  integrity  and  health  are  their 
only  earthly  possessions. 

'Tis  true  the  wild  denizen  of  nature,  living  in  uncivi- 
lised climes,  can  subsist  alone  and  unaided,  but  he  has 
free  choice  of  each  animal  of  the  forest  for  food ;  or  he 
may  select  any  bird  that  flies,  he  may  take  from  the 
abundance  of  the  rivers  or  lakes,  he  may  eat  of  the 

356 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN. 

fruits  of  the  earth,  and  warm  and  shelter  himself 
beneath  the  wide-stretching  arms  of  the  leafy  trees  — 
«  no  man  sayeth  him  nay."  But  the  dweller  in  civilised 
lands  disinherited  of  these  mighty  gifts  of  a  munificent 
Creator,  and  taught,  while  smarting  under  every  priva- 
tion, to  regard  the  rights  of  proprietorship  as  sacred  and 
ho  y,  may  at  least  claim,  in  return  for  the  labour  and 
toil  which  enriches  his  country,  the  simple  reward  which 
shall  give  him  wherewithal  to  live  healthily  —  neither 
more  nor  less.  For  can  life  consist  in  dragging  on  a 
weary  and  ceaseless  strife,  in  the  narrow  limits  which 
separate  existence  from  the  tomb,  with  cold,  hunger 
sickness,  and  every  consequent  misery  ?  ' 

And  further  to  display  the  lengths  to  which  this  mor- 
tification may  be  carried  by  a  pitiless  world,  deaf  to  the 
repeated  representations  of  such  as  plead  for  a  mst 
remuneration  for  the  labour  of  thousands  of  honest  and 
industrious,  though  half  starved,  fellow  creatures,  we 
will  give  an  exact  detail  of  the  mode  in  which  four 
irancs  a  week  will  enable  any  poor  female  to  live 

May  these  particulars  suffice  to  obtain  sympathy,  if 
not  relief,  for  so  large  a  body  of  unfortunate  beings,  who 
endure  with  such  patience  and  resignation  a  mode  of 
existence  which  is  just  so  much  like  life  as  it  serves 
each  moment  to  display  the  pains  and  sorrows  of  the 
primeval  curse -that  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  man 
should  eat  bread. 

To  drag  on  such  a  daily  chain  of  wants  and  priva- 
tions _  requires  virtue  of  the  firmest  and  most  uncom- 
promising description;  and  while  society,  organised 
as  it  now  is,  either  tolerates  or  imposes  such  heavy 
burdens  it  has  no  right  to  question  the  conduct  of 
unhappy  beings  who  sink  into  guilt,  not  because  they 
are  naturally  depraved,  but  because  they  are  hungry 
cold  and  wretched  Behold,  then,  the  various  item's' 
which  consumed  the  poor  sempstress's  four  francs  a 

357  < 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Six  pounds  of  bread,  second  quality  . 
Two  pails  of  water  .... 
Lard  or  dripping  (butter  being  too  dear) 
Coarse  salt 

A  bushel  of  coals  

A  pint  of  dried  vegetables  . 
Three  pints  of  potatoes 

A  candle  

Needles  and  thread  .... 


Centimes. 
84 
20 
50 
7 
40 
30 
20 
33 
25 


Total  3/'  9c- 

In  order  to  save  her  firing,  La  Mayeux  prepared  a 
species  of  soup  twice  or  thrice  in  the  week,  on  a  small 
stove  placed  on  the  landing-place  of  the  fourth  story. 
The  intermediate  days  she  took  the  soup  quite  cold. 

Thus,  after  barely  allowing  herself  one  scanty,  com- 
fortless meal  a  day,  there  remained  less  than  a  franc, 
ninety-one  centiemes  (or  about  nine  pence  English),  to 
provide  her  with  clothing,  washing,  and  lodging.1 

By  a  wonderful  chance,  the  position  of  La  Mayeux 
was  rendered  singularly  easy  in  one  respect,  and  that 
was  as  regarded  her  rent.  Agricola,  who  well  knew  the 
oversensitiveness  of  the  poor  girl,  had  arranged  with  the 
porter  to  let  her  have  a  small  chamber  at  the  very  top 
of  the  house,  for  the  trifling  sum  of  twelve  francs  a  year  ; 
for  this  small  and  confined  space,  which  barely  admitted 

i  <*ome  of  these  details,  which  have  been  submitted  to  the  most  rigid 
BcrotlSy  the  result  of  which  has  been  the  eliciting  of  particulars  still  more 
distreSna are  taken  from  a  most  clever  work  by  M  Janoma,  a  mechanist, 
ancfnubiifhed  in  the  Ruche  Populaire,  a  journal  conducted  by  artisans  and 
wnSS  Se  with  as  much  impartiality  as  truth,  under  the  superintend- 
edtot &^rSuqursne,  a  printer.  M.  Janoma  adds,  and  but  with  too  much 
tenth  "  We Thave  both  known  and  seen  women  and  children  subsisting  for 
SSnttB  tog^ron  soup  made .without ^  either gutter  or, grease -nothing 
but  bread  boiled  in  water  with  a  little  salt!  The  same  writer  wiseiy 
Remark  that  the  workwoman  cannot  purchase  her  provisions  m  large 
quantities,  because  her  employer  has  not  a  ways  work .to '  ,  thus 

thprpforp  she  is  constrained  to  buy  a  small  loaf,  a  ha  porth  ot  salt,  a  single 
SSS^%McStoS«A  to  he/disadvantage,  fractions  of  pieces  always 
being  on  the  profit  side  of  the  seller  instead  of  the  buyer 

We  shall  further  add,  that  under  any  circumstances  the  poor  always pay 
nearlv  double  the  price  given  by  the  rich,  from  being  compelled  to  buy  m 
?mall  qSities,and  tS  pay  /eady  money.  Thus  a  load ^of  wood,  which 
might  have  been  bought  for  half  the  sum,  is  sold  out  in  fagots  to  the  poor, 
and  realises  from  seventy  to  eighty  francs  the  load. 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN. 


a  bed,  a  table,  and  a  chair,  Agricola  also  paid  eighteen 
francs  per  annum,  making  up,  with  La  Mayeux's  twelve, 
the  thirty  which  formed  its  real  price.  So  that,  after 
defraying  her  share  of  the  monthly  rent,  there  re- 
mained about  seven  pence  over  for  all  other  claims  and 
purposes. 

Hundreds,  nay,  thousands  of  females,  subsisting  like 
La  Mayeux,  by  the  produce  of  their  needle,  have  not 
the  happy  privilege  she  enjoyed  of  an  apartment  to  her- 
self. £Those  who  are  without  either  home  or  friends 
buy  a  piece  of  bread  or  any  common  food  for  their  day's 
subsistence,  and  for  the  payment  of  one  or  two  sous 
per  night  obtain  half  a  bed  with  some  female  companion, 
in  a  wretched  room  in  which  there  are  generally  five  or 
six  beds,  the  greater  number  of  which  are  occupied  by 
men,  who  usually  form,  in  these  abodes  of  dirt  and 
squalor^  the  largest  proportion  of  visitors.  And,  spite 
of  the  disgust  and  repugnance  with  which  a  virtuous  and 
pure  mind  at  first  beholds  this  manner  of  indiscriminate 
sleeping,  there  is  no  help  for  her ;  the  landlord  or  land- 
lady of  the  house  would  never  take  the  trouble  to 
arrange  separate  rooms  for  the  separate  sexes,  and  the 
street  is  her  only  alternative  if  she  refuses  the  present 
asylum. 

t  And  supposing  that  a  sempstress  should  desire  to  pro- 
vide a  furnished  room  for  herself,  however  meanly  or 
wretchedly  she  may  do  it,  an  outlay  of  from  thirty  to 
forty  francs  is  indispensable.  And  how  is  this  sum  to 
be  obtained  out  of  the  hardly  earned  pittance  of  four  or 
five  francs  a  week,  which  barely  suffices  to  give  her 
clothing  sufficient  to  appear  in,  or  to  buy  her  so  much 
food  as  shall  prevent  her  from  being  starved  to  death  ? 

Alas,  alas !  the  unhappy  victim  of  poverty  and  scanty 
pay  is,  however  reluctantly,  compelled  to  resign  herself 
to  this  corrupt  and  demoralising  mode  of  life,  which,  by 
imperceptible  degrees,  wears  away  the  finer  edges  of 
that  modest  and  chaste  reserve  which  has  preserved  her 

359 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


from  the  attacks  of  the  libertine  or  the  seductions  of  the 
wicked.  Vice  ceases  to  inspire  her  with  the  horror  it 
once  did  —  she  now  sees  in  it  the  only  means  of  escape 
from  the  intolerable  hardships  of  her  situation  —  she 
yields  to  her  fate  —  and  another  lost  creature  furnishes 
a  theme  for  the  animadversion  of  the  rich  fundholder, 
who  laments  the  difficulty  of  placing  virtuous  attendants 
about  his  young  daughters,  "  the  present  race  of  females 
being,"  as  he  says,  "  so  very  depraved  ! " 

But  to  return  to  the  hard-worked,  ill-paid  sempstress. 
There  are  other  evils  to  be  considered.  The  small  pay, 
the  aching  head  and  fingers,  are,  after  all,  blessings  to 
be  eagerly  sought  for  in  comparison  with  the  reverse  of 
the  picture. 

Suppose  she  is  without  work  at  all  for  two  or  three 

days ! 

Should  she  fall  sick,  and  be  incapable  of  working! 
And  what  so  likely  to  produce  disease  as  insufficient 
or  unwholesome  food,  want  of  air,  of  rest,  of  common 
care,  all  of  which  generally  tend  to  weaken  the  body 
and  enervate  the  system  to  such  a  degree  as  to  render 
all  exertion  painful,  while  the  symptoms  are  not  suffi- 
ciently alarming  or  dangerous  to  claim  the  privilege  of 
admission  into  a  hospital  ? 

Then  what  becomes  of  these  destitute  creatures  ?  The 
imagination  sickens  and  turns  away  from  the  painful 
and  appalling  picture. 

To  the  unequal  and  insufficient  payment  allowed  to 
female  workers,  the  source  of  unimaginable  guilt, 
wretchedness,  and  despair,  may  be  attributed  the  mis- 
fortunes and  crimes  of  thousands  of  poor  creatures,  striv- 
ing in  vain  to  live  honestly  and  virtuously  on  four  francs 
a  week  ;  and,  be  it  well  remembered,  we  are  not  describ- 
ing an  individual  case,  but  the  misery  of  an  entire  class. 
The  character  of  La  Mayeux,  such  as  we  shall  endeavour 
to  portray  her,  may  serve  as  a  model  of  the  moral  and 
bodily  condition  of  thousands  of  fellow  creatures,  battling 

360 


THE  SISTER  OP  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN. 

against  all  the  ills  of  life,  upon  a  wretched,  hard-earned 
pittance  of  four  francs  a  week. 

Poor  Mayeux,  spite  of  the  assistance  she  owed,  though 
unconsc.ously,  to  the  generosity  of  Agricola,  lived  in  a 
state  almost  amounting  to  absolute  want.    Her  health 
always  feeble,  became  seriously  affected  by  her  many' 
privations;  yet,  by  an  excess  of  delicacy,-  Cgh 
utterly  ignorant  of  Agricola's  kind,  but  generous  aid 
he  poor  girl  affected  to  earn  more  thaf  she  realty  d^ 
in  order  to  avoid  those  offers  of  service  which  would 
have  been  most  painful  to  her,  from  her  knowledge  of 
the  many  wants  experienced  both  by  Frangoise  and  her 
son,  and  because  it  was  wholly  at  variance  with  the 
naturally  susceptible  turn  of  her  mind  (a  bias,  indeed 
which  her  constant  humiliations  and  daily  hardships  had 
almost  brought  into  a  state  of  morbid  sensitiveness)  to 
crave  the  pity  or  seek  the  assistance  of  her  dear  friends 
already  so  sorely  bowed  down  with  their  own  trials 

But,  strange  to  say,  the  distorted,  ill-favoured  body 
nature  had  bestowed  on  La  Mayeux  concealed  a  deep 
and  loving  nature,  a  heart  generous  and  affectionate  to 
any  extent,  and  a  mind  of  even  poetic  taste  and  cult  va- 
cultivation;  for  let  us  hasten  to  explain  the 

had" 21  f  bMaying  thf  tWs  WOndrous  Phenomenon 
had  arisen  from  the  example  of  Agricola  Baudoin,  whose 
early  poetical  genius  had  quickly  developed  itse  f  and 
with  whom  La  Mayeux  had  been  almost  entirely  brought 
up. 

The  poor  girl  had  been  the  first  confidant  of  Agricola's 

ifth^r^  ^  When  the  smith  talke*  to  her 

of  the  charm  he  experienced,  and  the  recreation  he  found 
m  the  charms  of  poetry,  and  how  its  entrancing  reveries 
solaced  and  refreshed  him  after  a  hard  day's  toi  the 
poor  sempstress,  endowed  with  a  mind  and  understand 
ing  of  no  ordinary  stamp,  began  to  think  how  such  a 
pursuit  might  also  cheer  her,  in  her  long,  tedious,  and 
solitary  days  spent  in  bending  over  her  needle. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

One  day  that  Agrioola  had  just  read  to  her  a  copy  of 
his  last  verses,  La  Mayeux  turned  very  red,  hesitated, 
and  at  length,  after  many  efforts,  besought  his  patience 
while  she,  too,  confided  to  him  a  poetical  secret  ot  her 

°WThe  verses  she  repeated  were,  doubtless,  deficient  in 
both  rhythm  and  harmony,  but  they  were  touching  and 
simple  ;  consisting  merely  of  laments  untmged  by  bitter- 
ness, and  complaints  unmarked  by  envy  or  ill-will,  but 
merely  intended  to  reach  the  pitying  heart  of  one  dearly 
loved  friend.  Prom  this  hour  she  and  Agricola  mutu- 
ally consulted  and  encouraged  each  other  ;  but,  with  the 
exception  of  the  young  smith,  no  creature  m  the  world 
suspected  La  Mayeux  of  being  poetical ;  on  the  contrary, 
thanks  to  her  extreme  shyness  and  awkwardness,  she 
passed  with  most  persons  as  not  being  far  removed  from 

a  The  soul  of  this  unfortunate  girl  must  have  been  noble 
and  magnanimous,  for  never,  in  these  her  wild  and  un- 
taught verses,  did  one  line  expressive  of  anger,  hatred, 
or  discontent  at  her  lot  find  admission ;  it  was  one  strain 
of  gentle  sadness  of  despair,  mingled  with  submission 
and  resignation  to  a  fate  too  hopeless  to  promise  relief  ; 
a  continued  flow  of  infinite  tenderness  and  loving-kmd- 
ness,  combined  with  a  keen  sympathy  for  all  similarly 
situated  and  affected  as  herself;  a  chant  of  universal 
charity  and  good-will  towards  all  unhappy  beings,  doomed 
like  herself  to  bear  the  double  burthen  of  bodily  deform- 
ity and  extreme  misery;  still  occasionally  breaking  out 
into  eulogiums  upon  the  charms  of  beauty,  which  she 
praised  without  envying,  and  admired  at  a  distance  with 
the  admiration  she  experienced  at  beholding  the  bright 
and  glorious  sun.  ,  . 

But  the  young  poetess  did  not  recite  all  her  composi- 
tions, even  to  Agricola ;  and  there  were  some  verses .she 
would  have  died  ere  he  should  have  heard.  The  joung 
smith,  without  being  regularly  handsome,  had  a  tine, 

362 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN. 

manly,  prepossessing  countenance ;  was  as  good-hearted 
as  noble,  ardent,  courageous,  and  generous ;  his  disposi- 
tion was  mirthful  yet  gentle,  and  open  as  that  of  a  child, 
while  his  mind  was  of  the  highest  order  of  intellectual 
excellence. 

The  poor  sempstress,  brought  up  with  him,  loved  him 
with  all  the  depth  of  a  passion  such  a  nature  as  hers 
would  feel  for  the  one  person  upon  earth  on  whom  was 
concentrated  all  her  fondest  affection,  but  which  an 
instructive  consciousness  of  its  being  impossible  to  re- 
ciprocate such  a  regard  made  her  carefully  bury  in  the 
recesses  of  her  own  heart.    Compelled  by  her  own  reflec- 
tions to  this  reserve,  this  profound  concealment,  La 
Mayeux  sought  not  to  escape  from  her  love  "What 
would  it  ever  signify?"  said  she,  mentally ;  «  Agricola 
would  never  know  anything  about  it."    And,  besides, 
ner  habitual  and  well-known  sisterly  affection  for  him 
was  always  a  sufficient  explanation  of  the  lively  interest 
she  took  in  all  that  concerned  him ;  and  from  the  same 
cause  the  deadly  anguish  she  endured  when,  after  having 
bravely  combated  in  1830,  Agricola  had  been  carried 
home  to  his  mother's,  covered  with  blood  and  wounds 
passed  unheeded.  ' 

Deceived  equally  with  others  as  to  the  existence  of 
a  warmer  sentiment,  the  son  of  Dagobert  had  never  for 
one  instant  suspected  the  deeply  rooted  attachment  of 
La  Mayeux. 

Such,  then,  was  the  humbly  attired  individual  who 
entered  the  chamber  of  Francoise,  while  she  was  ensued 
m  preparations  for  her  son's  supper. 

"  Is  it  you,  my  poor  Mayeux  ? "  said  she.  «  I  have 
not  seen  you  all  day.  You  have  not  been  ill,  I  hone  ? 
Come  and  give  me  a  kiss."  F  ' 

The  young  girl  tenderly  embraced  the  mother  of 
Agricola,  and  replied : 

"I  had  some  work  I  was  obliged  to  finish,  Madame 
Urancoise,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  lose  a  minute.    I  have 

363 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


only  just  finished  it.    I  am  going  out  for  a  few  coals ; 
do  you  want  anything  ?  " 

"  No,  my  child,  thank  you.  But  I  am  very  uneasy. 
It  is  half  past  eight,  and  Agricola  is  not  yet  returned.', 
Then  she  added,  with  a  sigh,  "He  works  himself  to 
death  for  me.  Ah,  my  dear  Mayeux,  I  am  very  un- 
happy !  My  eyesight  is  quite  gone ;  at  the  end  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  I  can  see  nothing,  —  nothing  at  all ; 
all  is  misty  and  confused.  I  cannot  work  many  min- 
utes together,  even  at  making  these  coarse  sacks.  The 
idea  of  being  wholly  a  burden  on  my  son  almost  breaks 
my  heart." 

"  Ah,  Madame  Franchise,  what  would  Agricola  say  if 
he  heard  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  know  full  well.  The  dear  boy  thinks  of 
nothing  but  me,  and  that  makes  me  grieve  the  more. 
And  then,  too,  I  always  remember  that,  because  he  will 
not  quit  me,  he  denies  himself  the  privileges  his  fellow 
workmen  enjoy  from  the  kind  indulgence  of  their 
wealthy  and  excellent  employer,  M.  Hardy.  Instead  of 
inhabiting  here  a  wretched  garret,  where  air  and  light 
can  scarcely  find  admittance,  he  might,  like  the  rest  of 
the  establishment,  have  a  large,  light,  airy  chamber, — 
cool  and  healthy  in  summer,  and  well  warmed  and  com- 
fortable in  winter,  —  looking  out  upon  trees  and  gardens, 
of  which  he  is  so  fond ;  and  all  this  he  might  have  at  a 
very  trifling  expense,  and  so  save  himself  the  long,  fatigu- 
ing walk  from  hence  to  his  workshop,  which  is  situated 
in  the  environs  of  Paris." 

« But  he  forgets  all  his  fatigue  when  he  sees  you 
again,  Madame  Baudoin  ;  and  as  he  knows  full  well  how 
greatly  you  love  this  place  in  which  he  was  born  — 
Why,  M.  Hardy  has  even  offered  to  give  you  apartments 
with  Agricola,  in  the  establishment  he  has  built  for  his 
workpeople  at  Passy." 

"But  then,  my  child,  I  must  have  abandoned  my 
parish  and  my  church  ;  and  —  I  —  cannot  do  that." 

364 


THE  SISTER  OP  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN. 

T^»ife  ^ad^meFran?oi^;  I  hear  someone  coming. 
Yes,  said  La  Mayeux,  her  pale  cheeks  turning  a  deen 
red ;  «  'tis  he  !  Now  your  fears  are  over  "  8  P 
And  as  she  spoke,  the  sounds  of  a  rich,  sonorous  voice, 
chanting  a  merry  song,  were  heard  on  the  stairs. 

1  must  not  let  him  find  me  in  tears,"  said  the  affec- 

.2     ™rl •'  h!Stily  Tiping  the  IarSe  dr°Ps  fr»n>  her 

Do  not  p.  "  !  °a\  r6Spite  from  toil  and  fatig«e. 
Do  not  let  me  destroy  the  only  peaceful  enjoyment  he 

bhnVmXer."  ^  °f  h0Ur  ^  his  ™ 


END  OF  VOLUME  I. 


365 


Part  III.  — Continued 
THE  STRANGLERS 


! 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 


II. 
III. 

IV. 
V. 

VI. 


PART  III. -The  Stranglers -  Continued. 
I.    Agricola  Baudoin 


The  Return  . 

Agricola  and  La  Mayeux 

The  Morning 

The   Hotel   de   Saint-Dizier.  _  The  Pa 

VILION 

Adrienne's  Toilet 


VII.    The  Interview 


VIII. 
IX. 
X. 
XL 
XII. 
XIII. 
XIV. 
XV. 
XVI. 
XVII. 
XVIII. 


PART  IV.  — Hotel  de  Saint-Dizier. 
A  Jesuitess  . 
The  Plot 

The  Enemies  of  Adrienne 
The  Skirmish  . 
The  Revolt  . 
The  Hotel  de  Saint-Dizier. 
The  Snare 
A  False  Friend  . 
The  Minister's  Residence 
The  Visit 

Presentiments 


—  Treachery 


PAGE 

13 

28 
42 
52 

72 
81 


115 

126 

138 

149 

157 

174 

177 

191 

203 

219 

237 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  qjq 

XIX.    The  Letter  

XX.    The  Confessional  

XXI.    Monsieur  and  Killjoy  279 

XXII.    Appearances  286 

XXIII.  The  Convent  295 

XXIV.  The  Influence  of  a  Confessor  .      .  .311 

XXV.  The  Interrogatory  324: 

PART  V.  The  Queen-Bacchanal. 

XXVI.  The  Masquerading  335 

XXVII.    The  Contrast  °™ 

XXVIII.    The  Reveille-Matin  362 


viii 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER  I. 

AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN. 

The  poet-smith  was  a  tall  young  fellow,  about  four 
and  twenty  years  of  age,  active  and  powerful,  with  a  pale 
complexion  and  black  hair  and  eyes,  with  an  aquiline 
nose,  and  a  bold,  energetic,  and  open  countenance.  His 
resemblance  to  Dagobert  was  the  more  striking  as  he 
wore,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  a  thick  brown 
moustache,  and  his  beard,  cut  to  a  point,  only  covered 
his  chin,  his  cheeks  being  cleanly  shaved  from  the  angle 
of  the  jaw  to  the  temples.  He  was  attired  in  velveteen 
trousers,  a  blue  blouse  stained  with  the  smoke  of  the 
forge,  a  black  silk  handkerchief  tied  carelessly  around  his 
sinewy  neck,  and  a  cap  with  a  short  peak.  The  only 
thing  that  contrasted  with  these  garments  of  toil  was  a 
magnificent  large  flower  of  deep  purple,  with  petals 
as  white  as  silver,  which  the  smith  held  in  his  hand. 

"  Good  evening,  mother,  dear,"  he  said,  as  he  entered 
and  embraced  Francoise ;  then,  nodding  his  head  in  a 
friendly  way  to  the  young  girl,  he  added,  "  Oh,  good 
evening,  little  Mayeux." 

"  You  are  late  this  evening,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Fran- 
coise, turning  towards  the  little  pan  in  which  was  the 
small  repast  of  her  son.    "  I  was  getting  uneasy." 

13 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


«  Uneasy  about  me  or  the  supper,  mother  ?  "  inquired 
Agricola,  gaily.  "  Oh,  the  deuce !  Will  you  never  for- 
give me  for  keeping  my  supper  waiting  a  little  bit, 
though  it  is  because  you  think  it  will  spoil  ?  You 
naughty  woman,  you ;  go  along  with  you  !  " 

And  as  the  smith  said  this,  he  kissed  his  mother 
again. 

"  Leave  off,  you  naughty  boy,  you !  You  will  make 
me  upset  the  pan." 

"That  would  be  a  pity,  mother,  of  course,  since  it 
smells  so  good.    Let's  see  what  you've  got  for  me." 

"  No,  no  ;  wait  and  see." 

« I'll  bet  a  wager  that  you've  got  some  potatoes  fried 
in  lard,  which  I  adore." 

"  Isn't  it  Saturday  ? "  said  Franchise,  in  a  tone  of 
gentle  reproach. 

"  True,"  said  Agricola,  exchanging  a  knowing  smile 
with  La  Mayeux.  "But,  talking  of  Saturday,  here, 
mother,  are  my  week's  wages." 

«  Thank  you,  my  dear  boy  ;  put  it  in  the  wardrobe." 

"  I  will,  mother." 

"Ah,"  said  the  young  workgirl,  as  Agricola  was 
placing  the  money  in  the  wardrobe,  "what  a  beautiful 
flower  you  have  in  your  hand,  Agricola!  I  never  saw 
such  a  one  ;  and  in  the  depth  of  winter,  too  !  Only  look, 
Madame  Francoise." 

"Yes,  mother,"  said  Agricola,  going  towards  his 
mother  to  show  her  the  flower.  "Look,  admire,  and 
above  all,  smell  it;  it  is  impossible  to  have  a  sweeter 
and  more  agreeable  scent,  —  it  is  a  mixture  of  vanilla 
and  orange  flower."  1 

"  Yes,  my  dear  child,  the  odour  is  delicious.  How 
beautiful  it  is,  too  !    Where  did  you  find  it  ? " 

"  Find  it,  mother ! "  said  Agricola,  laughing.  "  Liable  ! 
Do  you  think  these  flowers  are  picked  up  in  the  highway 


i  The  splendid  flower  of  the  Crinum  amabile,  a  beautiful  bulbous  hothouse 
plant. 

14 


AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN. 

Micheg?"fr°m        Barrfer  dU  Maine  to  the  Rue  Brise" 

w^AKd  ^  then-'  ^  yoa  find  it?"  said  La  Mayeux, 
who  shared  Francoise's  curiosity. 

«  Ah,  what  curious  ?  Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you  ;  and 
it  will  account  for  my  being  a  little  later  than  usual,  my 
dear  mother,  although  something  else  detained  me  as 
well.  It  is  really  an  evening  of  adventures.  I  was 
coming  home  at  a  good  pace,  and  had  already  reached 
the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  when  I  heard  a  little 
low  and  plaintive  howl.  It  was  still  rather  light,  and 
doTl e  1°0keAd,°7n  K8^  one  of  th«  Prettifst  little 
if        v        di  n°  Wgger  than  m?  fist'  Waok  and 

aU  *2  ,  I  6arS  faIImg„0n  the  ground>  and  fathered 
all  down  to  its  very  paws." 

"It  was  lost,  no  doubt,"  said  Francoise. 

"Yes.  I  took  the  poor  little  thing  up,  and  it  began 
to  hck  my  hands.  It  had  around  its  neck  a  pieced 
wide  red  satin  riband,  tied  in  a  large  bow.    I  looked 

lIttriintro  anVnd  drTCred  a  S™a11  collar  -adeo^ 
httle  links  of  gold  or  gilt  metal,  with  a  small  plate.  I 

5£i  °Ut  ?f  my  tobacco-box,  rubbed  it,  and 

obtained  light  enough  to  read  • 

de  B^byfoneSri!' »  ^  de  CardwilIe'  R«e 

La"llaJeuxf0rtUnately'  7<m  ^  *  the  Very  street>"  said 
"As  you  say    So  I  took  the  little  thing  under  my 
arm  and,  turning  down  the  street,  I  cam!  to  a  long 

UttleTod?  '  v ^  end,°f  Whi0h  1  reached  the  ^  of  f 
httle  lodge  which,  no  doubt,  belongs  to  a  large  mansion 

which  is  situated  at  the  farther  end  of  the  park  wall 

for  this  garden  is  just  like  a  park.    I  looked  up  and  saw 

S£  WhlCTh  had  been  freshly  Parted,  over  a  small 
wicket  door  I  rung  the  bell,  and,  after  a  few  minutes 
which  no  doubt,  were  passed  in  examining  meTfor  f 
thought  I  saw  two  eyes  through  the  grating  of  the 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


wicket),  the  door  opened.    But,  now,  you'll  hardly  be- 
lieve what  I  arn  going  to  say." 

«  Why  not,  my  child  ?  " 

«  Because  it  is  just  like  a  fairy  tale." 

"  A  fairy  tale  ? "  said  La  Mayeux. 

"Yes,  for  I  was  and  am  still  quite  dazzled  and  be- 
wildered with  all  I  saw.  It  is  like  the  vague  remem- 
brance of  a  dream." 

"Well,  go  on  —  go  on,  tell  us  all  about  it,"  said  the 
good  mother,  so  interested  that  she  did  not  perceive  that 
her  son's  supper  was  beginning  to  scorch  a  little. 

"  Well,  then,"  replied  the  young  smith,  smiling  at  the 
curiosity  which  his  recital  inspired,  "a  young  woman 
opened  the  door,  so  handsome  and  so  singularly  but 
beautifully  dressed  that  she  looked  like  a  lovely  portrait 
of  the  olden  time.  I  had  not  spoken  a  word  before  she 
exclaimed : 

"  <  Ah,  sir  !  what,  have  you  found  Lutine,  and  brought 
him  back  again?  Oh,  how  glad  Ma'amselle  Adrienne 
will  be  !  Follow  me  —  come  along  —  or  she  will  regret 
not  to  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  herself,  and 
thanking  you.'  And  without  giving  me  time  to  reply, 
the  young  person  made  me  a  sign  to  follow  her.  And 
now,  mother  dear,  to  tell  you  all  I  saw  that  was  fine  and 
magnificent,  as  I  crossed  a  small  apartment,  only  half 
lighted  up,  but  which  smelt  deliciously,  would  be  a  per- 
fect impossibility.  The  young  lass  tripped  along  very 
quickly,  and  opened  a  door.  There,  then,  was  a  sight ! 
I  was  so  astonished  that  I  can  remember  nothing  but 
a  sort  of  combination  of  gold  and  light,  crystal  and 
flowers ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  glitter  was  a  young 
lady  _  oh,  so  beautiful !  Such  a  beauty  as  one  only  sees 
in  dreams.  She  had  red  hair,  or  rather  bright  gold 
colour.  It  was  charming.  I  never  in  my  life  saw  such 
hair.  And  then,  too,  she  had  black  eyes,  red  lips,  and 
was  so  fair  that  I  cannot  compare  her  to  anything. 
That's  all  I  remember,  for  I  tell  you  I  was  so  surprised, 

16 


AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN. 

Zothfi^  1  S6emed  38  th°^h  1  -  ***** 
"'Mademoiselle,'  said  the  young  girl,  whom  I  never 
could  have  taken  for  a  femme  dectmire,  she  was  so 
elegantly  dressed, « here  is  Lutine.  This  gentleman  has 
found  him,  and  brought  him  back.' 

"'Ah,  sir!'  said  the  young  lady  with  the  golden 
locks  m  a  voice  which  sounded  like  I  silver  bell;  < how 
can  I  ever  thank  you  sufficiently?    I  am  so  foolishlT 
fond  of  Lutine  '    Then  judging,  no  doubt,  by  my  dress 
feat  she  might,  and  perhaps  ought  to  thank  me  other 
wise  than  by  words,  she  took  a  small  silk  purse,  which 

certainlt  fslerTand  ™th  SOme 

certamly,  'Sir,  I  am  afraid  you  have  had  a  great  deal  of 

trouble  in  bringing  Lutine  here,  and  you  have,  perhaps 

lost  much  precious  time;  pray  allow  me ->'  and  she 

offered  me  the  purse." 

«  Ah,  Agricola,"  said  La  Mayeux,  in  a  tone  of  vexation 
"  how  people  mistake !  "  vexation, 

"  Wait  for  the  end,  and  you  will  forgive  the  vounsr 
lady  Seeing  no  doubt,  by  the  glance  of  my  eye  that 
she  had  wounded  me  by  such  an  offer,  she  took  from  a 
magnificent  vase  of  porcelain,  which  was  near  her/his 
superb  flower;  and,  addressing  me  in  a  voice  full  of 
sweetness  and  kindness,  which  showed  how  much  she 
regretted  having  wounded  me,  she  said : 

" <Then,  at  least,  sir,  you  will  accept  this  flower ' ' " 
m4,r™  ,are  n.fht'  Agricola,"  said  La  Mayeux,  with  a 
melancholy  smile;  « it  is  impossible  to  make  a  more 
gracious  amends  for  an  involuntary  offence  " 

"Worthy  young  lady!"  said  Franchise,  wiping  her 
7t %1  l°W  ^  She  un^rStood  my  Agricola !  "  g 

"Didn't  she  mother?  Well,  at  the  very  moment 
when  I  was  taking  the  flower,  without  venturing  to  St 
up  my  eyes,  for,  although  I  am  not  timid,  yet  there  was 
something  in  this  young  lady  so  commanding,  although 
she  was  so  amiable,  a  door  opened,  and  another  vefy 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


handsome  young  girl,  tall  and  dark,  attired  in  a  very 
peculiar  but  becoming  costume,  said  to  the  young  lady 
with  the  red  hair,  '  Mademoiselle,  he  is  there.'  She 
rose  directly,  and  saying  to  me,  4  A  thousand  pardons, 
sir;  I  shall  never  forget  that  I  have  owed  to  you  a 
moment  of  deep  gratification  —  pray  do  not  forget  my 
address  and  the  name  of  Adrienne  de  Cardoville,'  she 
withdrew. 

"  I  did  not  say  one  word  in  reply.  The  young  girl 
conducted  me  back  again,  and,  making  me  a  very  nice 
curtsey  at  the  door,  lo  and  behold !  I  found  myself  again 
in  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  as  much  overcome  and  aston- 
ished, I  tell  you  again,  as  if  I  had  just  come  out  of  an 
enchanted  palace." 

"Really,  my  dear  boy,  it  is  quite  like  a  fairy  tale; 
isn't  it,  little  Mayeux  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Madame  Franchise,"  said  the  young  girl,  with 
an  absent  and  thoughtful  air,  which  Agricola  did  not 
remark. 

"  What  touched  me  most,"  he  resumed,  "  was,  that 
this  young  lady,  delighted  as  she  was  at  having  her  little 
pet  back  again,  instead  of  forgetting  me,  as  so  many 
others  would  have  done  in  her  place,  did  not  bestow  all 
her  attention  upon  it,  which  shows  consideration  and 
feeling  ;  doesn't  it,  Mayeux  ?  I  really  think  her  so  good 
and  kind-hearted  that  in  any  important  case  I  should 
not  hesitate  to  address  her." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  still  more 
pensively. 

The  poor  girl  was  suffering  acutely ;  she  did  not  expe- 
rience any  hatred  or  jealousy  against  the  young  unknown 
lady,  who,  by  her  beauty  and  her  wealth,  her  delicacy 
and  her  conduct,  seemed  to  belong  to  a  sphere  so  high 
and  grand  that  La  Mayeux's  imagination  could  not  even 
reach  it;  but,  involuntarily  reflecting  on  her  own  for- 
lorn position,  the  poor  lone  creature  had  never  before 
so  keenly  felt  the  pangs  of  deformity  and  misery.  Still, 

18 


AGRICOLA  BAUBOIN 

Yet  her  heart  was  sorely  wounded,  and  she  conlH  „„f 
repress  her  tears  when  she  looked  at  the  splendid  flower 
so  full  of  beauty  and  odour,  which  nresenteri Mhv  \ ,  T  J 
so  ch.rn.ing,  mustte  most  precious  ZlgS^  ^ 
Now  mammy,"  said  the  young  smith  who  dM  ™f 

Su^'^r      '« sir; 

th™  5,  h  walking  backward,  ,„d  forwardi  a« 

Fra',SLWh°  ~  "»  «»'       A^ola!"  said 

"For  your  hands,  Agricola." 
Thanks,  my  little  Mayeux !    How  kind  you  are!" 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Then,  in  the  most  natural  and  unaffected  accent  in  the 

world,  he  added  :  „ 
«  There,  take  my  heautiful  flower  for  your  pains. 
«  What  will  you  give  it  to  me  ? '  exclaimed  the  little 
sempstress,  in  a  voice  full  of  emotion,  whilst  a  hue  of 
Sn  overspread  her  pale  and  interesting  counte- 
nance "will  you  really  give  it  to  me, -tins .  mag- 
n  ficen't  flower'which  the  handsome,  good,  land,  rich 
kdy  gave  yon?"  And  poor  Mayeux  repeated,  with 
a  bewildered  air,  "What,  will  you  really  give  it  to 

^  Why,  what  the  deuce  should  I  do  with  it  ?  Can  I 
pnt  it  on  my  breast,  or  have  it  mounted  as  a  pm  smd 
Aorieola  laughing.  "I  am  very  sensible  of  the  charm- 
4fwt  m  which  the  young  lady  thanked  me  and  was 
delisted  at  having  found  her  little  dog;  but  I  am  also 
deSted  to  give  you  this  flower,  particularly  as  you 
aSre  it  so  much.    You  see  the  day's  work  has  been  a 

g0°Adn0dna;  he  said  this,  the  young^ smiti. Jj*J*. % 
Maveux  took  the  flower,  all  trembling  with  delight 
Son,  and  surprise)  washed  his  hands  al  blackened 
with  iron  filings  and  smoke  of  charcoal  so  that  in  a 
moment  the  clear  water  became  as  black  as  soot 

Agricola,  looking  at  La  Mayeux  so  as  to  direct  her 
attention  to  this  metamorphosis,  said  to  her  m  a  low  and 

'^reSnk  of  the  cheapest  for  us  paper-stainers !  I 
wrote  some  lines  yesterday,  with  which  I  am  not  at  all 
displeased.    I'll  read  them  to  you. 

Is  he  spoke,  Agricola  wiped  his  hands  <*rdesdy wflfc 
the  front  of  his  blouse,  whilst  ^^..^Zl^ 
basin,  and,  having  emptied  it,  returned  it  to  the  shell, 
and  carefully  placed  her  flower  beside  it 

"Why  did  not  you  ask  me  for  a  towel?  said  Man 
?oise,  looking  at  her  son  and  shrugging  her  shoulders. 


Wipe  your  hands  on  your  blouse  I 

20 


AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN. 


"  Why,  it  is  burnt  all  day  by  the  forge  fire,  so  it  won't 
be  the  worse  to  be  a  little  moistened  at  night  —  eh  »  Am 
I  a  naughty  boy  again,  mother  ?  Oh,  scold  me  if  you 
dare  ;  1  should  like  to  see  you  " 

Francoise's  reply  was  to  take  her  son's  head  in  her 
hands,  — that  head  so  full  of  frankness,  resolution,  and 
intelligence, —  look  at  him  for  a  moment  with  maternal 

SS^Sd?811  kiss  his  forehead  man^ times  m«* 

"  Come,  dear  boy,  and  sit  down ;  you  stand  all  day  at 
the  forge,  and  it  is  getting  late.,, 

"  Well,  then,  old  lady,  take  your  armchair.  What 
is  our  quarrel  to  begin  all  over  again  ?  I'm  just  as  well 
on  this  stool." 

"No,  you  are  not  You  ought  to  rest  as  much  as 
possible  alter  such  a  hard  day's  work." 

"Oh  you  tyrant  of  a  mother!  Isn't  she,  my  dear 
Mayenx?"  said  Agricola,  merrily,  as  he  took  his  seat. 

Well  I  am  a  very  obedient  boy,  and  I  am  always  so 
comfortable  m  your  armchair ;  I  never  was  seated  so  com- 
fortable m  my  life  since  the  day  in  July  when  I  had  a  roll 
on  the  throne  at  the  Tuileries." 

Prancoise  Baudoin  stood  up  at  one  end  of  the  table 

If i  Z  wlf  °f  nbread  for  her  son  '  whilst  L*  Mayeux 
took  the  bottle,  and  poured  some  wine  into  his  silver  cup 
There  was  something  almost  affecting  in  the  earnest 
attention  of  these  two  excellent  hearts,  who  loved  him 
they  tended  so  dearly. 

«  What,  you  won't  sup  with  me  ?  "  said  Agricola  to  La 
■Mayeux. 

"Thank  you,  Agricola,  but  I  have  dined,"  said  the 
sempstress,  casting  down  her  eyes. 

"  Oh  I  only  asked  you  out  of  politeness,  for  you  have 
your  whims,  and  nothing  in  the  world  will  induce  you  to 
eat  with  us.  And  there's  that  mother,  too, -she  will 
dine  all  alone  ;  and  in  that  way  she  deprives  herself  very 


21 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  But,  my  dear  boy,  no,  no  !   It  is  better  for  my  health 
to  dine  early.    Well,  is  it  nice  ? " 

"  Nice  ?  Why,  it's  excellent !  It  is  cod  with  turnips ! 
And  I  dote  on  cod.  I  ought  to  have  been  a  fisherman  at 
Newfoundland." 

The  worthy  fellow,  be  it  said,  found  the  mess  any- 
thing but  relishing  or  satisfactory  after  a  hard  day's 
work,  and  the  un tempting  dish  had  been  a  little  burnt, 
moreover,  during  his  story;  but  he  knew  he  should 
rejoice  his  mother  if  he  dined  maigre,  so  he  affected  to 
like  his  fish  exceedingly,  to  the  great  delight  of  the 
mother,  who  said,  with  a  satisfied  air : 

«  Oh,  I  can  see  you  relish  it,  my  dear  lad ;  on  Friday 
and  Saturday  next  I  will  make  you  some  more." 

«  Thank  ye,  thank  ye,  mother  ;  only  not  two  days  run- 
ning,  that  will  overdo  me.    Well,  now  let  us  talk  of 

what  we  will  do  to-morrow,  on  Sunday.  Let  us  amuse 
ourselves,  for  during  some  days,  mother,  you  seem  very 
sad,  and  I  can't  make  it  out.  I  think,  perhaps,  you  are 
angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  dear  son,  you  are  a  model  for  — " 

"  Well,  then,  prove  it  to  me,  and  show  me  that  you  are 
happy  by  taking  some  amusement ;  perhaps,  too,  our  little 
neighbour  here  will  do  us  the  honour  to  accompany  us,  as 
she^did  last  time,"  said  Agricola,  making  a  low  bow  to 
La  Mayeux. 

The  poor  girl  blushed,  looked  down,  and  her  counte- 
nance took  the  impression  of  deep  pain,  —  but  she  made 
no  answer. 

"  My  dear  child,  I  have  my  religious  duties  to  attend 
to  all  day;  you  know  that,"  said  Franchise  to  her 
son. 

"  Well,  then,  in  the  evening  !  I  will  not  ask  you  to 
go  to  the  theatre,  but  they  tell  me  there  is  a  fellow  that 
does  conjuring  tricks  very  cleverly." 

"  But  that  is  a  sort  of  theatre  !  " 

"  Oh,  really,  mother,  that  is  being  too  particular." 

22 


AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN. 

«  My  dear  boy,  I  do  not  wish  to  hinder  any  one  else 
from  doing  as  they  please."  * 

"That's  true  enough, _ forgive  me,  mother!  Well 
IJ  ,t.Te,Tn  g°  and  walk  around  Boulevards 
sTncJX  went  oT7  ^  «°  "J*  US ;  tt  is  three  ™2 
nev^r^es  out  "  g°6S  °ut         ™>  "»» 

wh^ouVeU  dt^d^'  ^  "**  ^  S-^y, 

my  motTe'r."7  g°°d  ^  ^  me  to  ^ 

"You  know,  Agricola,"  said  the  little  needlewoman 
blushing  and  casting  down  her  eyes ;  «  you  knowToS 
no  to  go  out  with  you  and  your  mother."  gh* 
Why  not,  mademoiselle?    May  I,  without  imnerri 
ne„ce,ask  the  reason  of  your  refusal?"  aid  iS" 

g  %J  6  yT°Ung,  gifl  Sigh6d  dee^  a«d  aen  repl  ed  ' 

"  Because  I  will  not  again  expose  you  to  the  chance 
of  a  quarrel  on  my  account,  Agricola  » 

rel1h;nd0llP^d0n/,Sai,lthe  Smith>  with  an  air  of 
regret  and  he  struck  his  brow  impatiently.     This  is 

what  La  Mayeux  alluded  to  :  J 

Sometimes,  but  very  seldom,  for  she  was  very  careful 

cola^b- ^M116  P°°r  giFl  had  waIked  out  wfth  Agl" 
cola  and  his  mother,  and  for  the  humble  sempstress  those 
days  had  been  unexampled  fetes.    She  had  watched I  and 
worked  many  nights,  and  fasted  many  days  to  buy  a  tidv 
cap  and  little  shawl,  that  she  mightU^d  lace  W 
cola  and  his  mother,  and  her  five  or  six  walks  on  the 
arm  oi  him  whom  she  secretly  idolised  had  En  the  onh 
days  of  happiness  she  had  ever  known  1 
During  their  last  walk,  a  brutal,  vulgar  fellow  had 
pushed  his  elbow  against  her  so  violently^ th Tpoor" 
gul  could  not  repress  a  shriek  of  pain,  to  which 

Agricola,  like  his  father,  was  endowed  with  that 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


patient  endurance  which  real  strength  and  courage  give 
to  noble  hearts,  but  when  there  was  a  gross  insult  to 
chastise,  his  violence  was  irrepressible.  Irritated  at  the 
brutality  and  coarseness  of  the  fellow,  Agricola  had 
dropped  his  mother's  arm  and  hit  this  man,  who  was 
about  his  own  age  and  make,  two  as  fearful  blows  as  the 
powerful  and  hard  hand  of  a  smith  could  apply  to 
the  "human  face  divine."  The  scoundrel  showed 
fight,  but  Agricola  gave  him  so  sound  a  drubbing  in 
the  presence  of  the  approving  spectators  that  he  ran 
away,  amidst  the  shouts  of  the  multitude. 

It  was  to  this  adventure  that  poor  La  Mayeux  adverted 
when  she  declined  going  out  with  Agricola,  in  order  that 
he  might  not  get  into  a  quarrel  on  her  account. 

We  may  imagine  the  smith's  regret  for  having  invol- 
untarily renewed  the  recollection  of  this  painful  circum- 
stance. Alas,  the  more  painful  for  La  Mayeux  than 
Agricola  could  suppose,  for  she  loved  him  devotedly, 
and  had  been  the  cause  of  his  quarrel  through  her 
infirmity,  which  excited  ridicule. 

Agricola,  in  spite  of  his  strength  and  resolution, 
had  the  sensibility  of  a  child,  and  when  he  reflected 
that  this  remembrance  must  be  very  painful  to  the  poor 
girl,  a  big  tear  started  in  his  eye,  and,  stretching  out 
his  arms  to  her,  like  an  affectionate  brother,  he  said 
to  her : 

"  Forgive  my  stupidity,  and  come  and  kiss  me." 

And  so  saying,  he  imprinted  two  hearty  kisses  on  the 
pale  and  thin  cheek  of  La  Mayeux. 

At  this  warm  salute,  the  lips  of  the  young  girl  turned 
pale,  and  her  poor  heart  beat  so  violently  that  she  was 
compelled  to  lean  against  the  table. 

«  Come,  come,  you  forgive  me,  don't  you  ?  "  inquired 
Agricola. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  vainly  contending  with  her  emo- 
tion ;  "  and  pray  in  turn  forgive  my  silly  weakness ;  but 
the  recollection  of  this  quarrel  always  distresses  me  — 

24 


AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN. 

F  "  °h:  1  never  in  a11  W  life  was  so  frightened  I  »  said 
Franco.se,  commg  to  La  Mayeux's  aid  without  knowing 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,  mother,"  replied  Agricola  in  order 

arrival  'S  Rea"J'  D°W'  1  hardI^  da^  think  of Us 
arrival  —  it  turns  my  senses  topsy-turvy." 

gran?;!"™11"  F™*>™,  "Heaven 

"What,  mother,  do  you  doubt?    Parbleu  ho  m„,t 

ZZ;^ had  to°  ^  —  it  Sys 

herlgfS"LkChild';  Fra^  interrupting 

tellfn  +w  mg  her  head  mournfully;  « do  not 

talk  in  that  way,  especially  about  your  father  " 

I  8m  «.n°;  /'f  7  d°  a"  Sorts  of  odd  thi«gs  to-night 
I  real  v  W  H°  °F  ^  F°rgive  me>  *  dS^ 
YonTnn     \  °nT  n°thlng  a11  niSht  b«t  beg  pardon 

5te  of  mv'seWi?e«  J  T^^  my  n°nSense  "  -eapgesPme Tn 
spite  ot  myself,  and  I  never  mean  to  offend  you." 

■  It  is  not  me  you  offend,  my  child." 
offend' ^ntmotir'  B^wtTl"^  ^  *"»  to 

months'  DOt  had  a  l6tter  from  h™  these  four 

f^W^1''  m°tller'  in  the  Ietter  which  he  dictated 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


what  barrier  he  should  arrive,  that  we  might  go  and 
meet  him." 

"True,  my  child!  And  yet,  though  ^ we  are  in  the 
month  of  February,  we  have  no  tidings." 

«0h  that's  the  reason  why  we  shall  see  him  soon; 
I  could' go  further,  and  say  I  should  not  be  surprised  if 
our  good  Gabriel  was  to  arrive  at  nearly  the  same  tame. 
His  last  letter  from  America  left  a  hope  for  it  What 
happiness,  my  dear  mother,  if  all  the  family  were 

reunited  1 "  . 

«  May  Providence  hear  you,  my  child !  It  would,  in- 
deed, be  a  day  of  joy  to  me !" 

"And  that  day  will  soon  arrive,  mother,  be ^ assured. 
As  to  my  father,  I  say  <  no  news  is  good  news  '  "  < 

«  Do  you  remember  your  father,  Agricola  ?  inquired 

La  Mayeux.  , 

«  Ma  foil    To  tell  the  truth,  what  I  most  remember 
was  his  great  hairy  cap,  and  his  moustache,  which 
frightened  me  so  confoundedly.    It  was  only  the  red 
riband  of  his  cross,  and  the  white  stripes  of  his  uniform, 
and  the  bright  breadth  of  his  sabre,  that  reconciled  me 
to  him  ;  wasn't  it,  mother  ?    But  what  ails  you,  mother  ? 
why  do  you  weep  ? "  , 
«  Alas,  poor  Baudoin  !  He  must  have  suffered  so  much 
in  being  separated  from  us  at  his  age  —  si xty.    On  my 
dear  child,  my  heart  is  ready  to  burst  when  I  think  that 
our  misery  is  only  going  to  change  its  aspect. 
«  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
"  Alas !  I  gain  next  to  nothing  " 
«  Well,  and  I,  then !    Is  there  not  a  chamber  for  him 
and  you,  and  a  table  for  him  and  you  ?    My  dear  good 
mother,  as  we  are  talking  of  household  affairs  added 
the  smith,  giving  to  his  voice  a  true  expression  of  tender- 
ness, that  he  might  not  annoy  his  mother  "  let  me  say 
one  word.    When  my  father  returns,  and  Gabriel  too, 
there  will  be  no  occasion  to  have  any  masses  said  tor 
them,  nor  to  burn  any  more  candles.    Well,  thanks  to 


AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN. 

such  economy,  the  dear  old  daddy  will  have  his  bottle  of 
wine  every  day,  and  his  tobacco  for  his  pipe.  Then  on 
bundays  we  will  procure  him  a  nice  little  dinner  from 
the  cook's  shop." 

Several  taps  at  the  door  interrupted  Agrieola 

"  Enter,"  said  he. 

But  instead  of  entering,  the  person  who  knocked  but 
halt  opened  the  door,  and  there  was  only  to  be  seen  a 
hand  and  arm  of  splendid  green,  which  made  gestures  to 
the  smith. 

"  Oh  it's  Daddy  Loriot,  the  prince  of  dyers,"  said 
Agrieola.   «  Enter  without  any  ceremony,  friend  Loriot." 

"Impossible,  my  lad;  I  am  reeking  from  head  to  foot 
with  dye.  I  shall  stain  Madame  Franchise's  floor  all 
green." 

"So  much  the  better;  it  will  then  look  like  a  green 
held,  and  I  adore  the  country." 

"Joking  apart,  Agrieola,  I  really  want  to  speak  to 
you  directly  !  "  r 

"What,  about  the  man  who  is  playing  spy?  Oh 
dont  annoy  yourself.  What  can  he  have  to  concern 
you  or  me  ? " 

"  No ;  I  think  he's  gone,  or  the  fog  is  so  thick  that  I 
cannot  see  him  But  that's  not  it;  come  to  me,  I  want 
you.  It  is,  really  now,  a  very  important  matter,"  added 
the  dyer,  with  a  mysterious  air,  —  «  a  matter,  too,  which 
concerns  you  only." 

"  What  S  be      AgriC°la'  ^  ^  ^  SUrprise" 
"  Go  and  see,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Francoise. 

ww-r  i  mothe";  but  devii  fetch  me  if  1  can  think 

what  it  all  means." 

The  smith  then  left  the  room  quickly,  leaving  his 
mother  and  La  Mayeux  together.  g 


27 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  RETURN. 

Five  minutes  after  he  had  left,  Agricola  returned. 
His  face  was  pale  and  agitated,  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  his  hand  tremulous,  but  yet  his  countenance  ex- 
pressed extraordinary  joy  and  tenderness.  He  stopped 
for  a  moment  at  the  entrance,  as  if  his  emotion  pre- 
vented him  from  approaching  his  mother. 

Franchise's  sight  was  so  much  enfeebled  that  she  did 
not  at  first  remark  the  change  in  her  son's  physiognomy. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  dear  ?  "  she  inquired. 

Before  the  smith  could  reply,  La  Mayeux,  more  quick- 
sighted,  exclaimed : 

"  Agricola,  what  ails  you  ?    How  pale  you  are  ! " 

"  Mother,"  said  the  artisan,  in  an  agitated  voice,  go- 
ing up  to  Franchise,  without  replying  to  La  Mayeux, 
"  mother,  I  have  something  to  say  which  will  very  much 
surprise  you;  promise  me  that  you  will  contain  your- 
self." 

«  What  do  you  mean  ?  How  you  tremble  !  Look  at 
me,  dear!  Yes,  indeed,  La  Mayeux  was  right,  how 
very  pale  you  look !  " 

"  My  dearest  mother ! "  and  Agricola,  going  on  his 
knees  before  Francoise,  took  her  two  hands  in  his.  "  I 
must  —  you  do  not  know  —  but  —  " 

The  smith  could  not  finish,  tears  of  joy  stifled  his 
voice. 

"You  weep,  my  dear  boy!  Oh,  what  causes  this? 
You  alarm  me,  love  !  " 

28 


THE  RETURN. 


'It  w  not  alarm  I  would  cause  you,  — quite  the  con- 
trary    said  Agricola,  wiping  his  eyes;  "you  will  be 
delighted.    But,  once  again,  do  not  excite  yourself,— 
tor  too  great  joy  is  as  trying  as  too  great  grief." 
"  What  mean  you  ?  " 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  he  would  soon  come  ?" 

"Your  father!"  exclaimed  Francoise,  as  she  rose 
from  the  chair.  Her  surprise  and  emotion  were  so 
excessive  that  she  placed  one  hand  on  her  heart  to  still 

faint  '        th6n        fdt  aS  th°Ugh  she  would 

Her  son  rose  and  supported  her.  La  Mayeux  had 
until  then  considerately  kept  out  of  the  way  during  this 
scene,  which  so  completely  absorbed  Agricola  and  his 
mother  but  she  then  timidly  drew  nigh,  thinking  she 
might  be  useful,  for  Francoise's  features  altered  more 
and  more. 

"Come,  mother,  courage !  "  said  the  smith ;  «  now  the 
re£n"        ^  W  ^  t0  rej°ice  °Ver  m^  father's 

I  cannot  credit  it!"  said  Francoise,  bursting  into  tears. 
Is  it  true  ?    Oh,  can  it  be  true  ? " 

™  "  ?  iS  S?         ^at'  if  J0U  wil1  Promise  n^t  to  be  too 
much  excited,  I  will  tell  you  when  you  will  see  him." 
boon,  —  oh,  soon,  —  sha'n't  I  ? " 

"  Yes,  very  soon." 

"  But  when  will  he  come  ?  " 

"He  may  be  here  from  one  moment  to  another  —  to- 
morrow —  even  to-night." 
"  To-night  ? " 

handT-'il^herTr         *         ^  ^  he  iS  d^  at 
"  He  is  —  he  is  —  " 
Francoise  could  not  finish. 

h  "  J!JSLn0J  hG  Was  beIow;  but  before  he  came  up  he 
begged  the  dyer  to  see  me,  that  I  might  prepare  you  to 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


see  him ;  for  the  dear  father  was  afraid  that  so  sudden 
a  surprise  might  make  you  ill." 
«  Oh  —  " 

"  And  now,"  exclaimed  the  smith,  with  an  expression 
of  the  deepest  happiness,  "  he  is  here  —  he  is  waiting ! 
Ah,  dearest  mother,  for  the  last  ten  minutes  I  have 
hardly  been  able  to  contain  myself,  my  heart  beats  as 
though  it  would  come  through  my  side." 

And  going  to  the  door  he  opened  it. 

Dagobert,  holding  Rose  and  Blanche  by  the  hand, 
appeared  on  the  threshold. 

Instead  of  throwing  her  arms  around  her  husband's 
neck,  Francoise  fell  on  her  knees  and  prayed. 

Lifting  up  her  soul  to  God,  she  thanked  him  with  the 
profoundest  gratitude  for  having  heard  her  vows,  her 
prayers,  and  thus  responded  to  her  offerings. 

For  a  second  the  actors  in  this  scene  remained  silent 
and  motionless. 

Agricola,  through  a  feeling  of  respect  and  delicacy, 
which  struggled  violently  against  the  impetuous  ardour 
of  his  tenderness,  did  not  throw  himself  on  Dagobert's 
neck,  but  waited,  with  ill-restrained  impatience,  until  his 
mother  had  concluded  her  pious  prayer. 

The  soldier  felt  the  same  sensation  as  the  smith,  but 
both  repressed  their  feelings,  and  they  exchanged  looks 
expressive  of  their  love  for  each  other,  and  their  affec- 
tion for  the  worthy  woman  who,  in  the  excess  of  her 
pious  zeal,  forgot  a  little  too  much  the  creature  for  the 
Creator. 

Rose  and  Blanche,  overcome  and  deeply  moved,  looked 
with  interest  on  the  kneeling  woman,  whilst  La  Mayeux, 
silently  shedding  tears  of  joy  at  the  thought  of  Agricola's 
happiness,  retired  into  a  dark  corner  of  the  room,  feeling 
that  she  was  an  intruder,  and  must  be  overlooked  in  the 
midst  of  this  family  reunion. 

Francoise  rose,  and  made  a  step  towards  her  husband, 
who  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

30 


THE  RETURN. 


In  a  moment  there  was  a  deep  silence. 
Dagobert  and  Francoise  did  not  utter  a  word,  only 
broken  sighs,  sobs,  and  deep  breathings  of  ioy  were 
heard.  When  the  old  couple  lifted  up  their  heads, 
their  countenances  were  calm,  joyous,  and  serene ;  for 
true  expressions  of  simple  and  pure  feelings  never  leave 
behind  them  marks  of  excitement  and  violent  agitation. 

"My  children,"  said  the  soldier,  in  a  voice  full  of 
emotion,  pointing  out  Francoise  to  the  girls,  who,  when 
her  first  emotion  was  over,  had  looked  at  them  with 
astonishment;  «  this  is  my  good  and  excellent  wife,  and 
she  will  be  to  General  Simon's  daughters  what  I  myself 
have  been."  J 

"  Then,  madame,  you  will  treat  us  as  if  we  were  your 

Fmncdse      "  ^  ^  ^  ^  her  Sister  ^  to 
"  General  Simon's  daughters ! "  exclaimed  Dagobert's 

wife,  more  and  more  surprised. 

"  Yes,  my  good  Francoise,  they  are.    I  have  brought 

them  from  a  long  distance,  not  without  trouble;  but  I 

will  tell  you  all  that  another  time." 

"Poor  little  dears!  They  look  like  two  angels,"  said 

adTi?ationrega         ^  °rphanS  With  6qUal  interest  and 
"And  now  for  us  two,"  said  Dagobert,  turning  to  his 


son. 


"  Yes,  now,"  said  Agricola. 

It  is  impossible  to  paint  the  excessive  delight  of  Dago- 
bert and  his  son,  the  tenderness  and  energy  of  their  em 
braces  yet  the  soldier  broke  in  upon  them  every  now  and 
then  to  look  Agricola  in  the  face,  leaning  his  hands  on 
the  broad  shoulders  of  the  youthful  smith,  that  he  mi^ht 

^\m°re  "af  on  his  manl7  and  frank  countenance, 
and  his  well-formed  and  powerful  frame  ;  after  which  he 

WlT  WW     hiln  t0  hiS  b°SOm'  Sa^>  "  Wh^  a  fine 
lad  !    What  a  well-grown,  good-looking  fellow  it  is  »  " 
La  Mayeux,  still  remaining  in  the  corner  of  the  room 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


participated  in  the  happiness  of  Agricola,  but  feared  that 
her  person,  though  not  yet  observed,  might  be  considered 
intrusive.  She  wished  to  retire  without  being  observed,  but 
that  was  impossible.  Dagobert  and  his  son  concealed 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  door,  and  she  therefore  remained 
perforce,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the  lovely  faces  of  Rose  and 
Blanche.  She' had  never  in  her  life  seen  anything  more 
lovely,  and  the  extraordinary  resemblance  between  the 
two  sisters  increased  her  surprise,  whilst  their  mourning 
attire  seemed  to  bespeak  that  they  were  poor ;  and  thus, 
involuntarily,  La  Mayeux  felt  more  sympathy  for  them. 

"  Dear  girls  !  They  are  cold  — their  little  hands  must 
be  frozen ;  and  unfortunately  the  fire  in  the  stove  has 
gone  out,"  said  Franchise. 

She  then  tried  to  warm  in  her  own  the  hands  of  the 
orphans,  whilst  Dagobert  and  his  son  were  abandoning 
themselves  to  the  outpouring  of  tenderness  so  long 
restrained. 

The  moment  when  Francoise  had  said  that  the  fire  in 
the  stove  was  extinct,  La  Mayeux,  anxious  to  make  her- 
self useful  as  an  excuse  for  her  presence,  which  might  be 
thought  ill-timed,  ran  to  the  little  cupboard  in  which  the 
charcoal  and  wood  were  kept,  and  taking  out  some  small 
bits  knelt  down  before  the  stove,  and,  by  the  aid  of  some 
sparks  still  retained  in  the  ashes,  lighted  up  the  fire, 
which  soon  drew  up  and  sparkled,  and  then  filling  a 
coffee-pot  with  water  she  placed  it  over  the  fire,  that  it 
might  be  useful  to  make  some  warm  drink  for  the  young 
girls. 

La  Mayeux  employed  herself  in  this  with  so  little 
noise  and"  so  quickly,  and  there  was  so  little  attention 
paid  to  her  in  the  midst  of  the  display  of  feeling  which 
was  exhibited,  that  Francoise,  fully  occupied  with  Rose 
and  Blanche,  did  not  remark  the  heating  of  the  stove 
until  she  felt  its  warmth,  and  soon  after  heard  the  bub- 
bling of  the  boiling  water  in  the  coffee-pot. 

This  phenomenon  of  a  fire  which  lighted  of  itself  did 

32 


THE  RETURN. 


not  at  the  moment  strike  Dagobert's  wife,  who  was  so 
completely  absorbed  by  the  thoughts  of  how  she  should 
lodge  the  two  young  girls,  for,  as  we  know,  the  soldier 
had  not  announced  their  intended  arrival. 
<  All  at  once  three  or  four  loud  barks  were  heard  out- 
side the  door. 

"Ah  it  is  my  old  Killjoy,"  exclaimed  Dagobert, 
opening  the  door  for  his  dog;  "he  wishes,  of  course,  to 
be  introduced  to  the  family.'' 

Killjoy  jumped  joyfully  into  the  room,  and  very 
speedily  made  himself  at  home.  After  having  rubbed 
his  long  muzzle  in  Dagobert's  hand,  he  went  around  to 
B1?nche>  Francoise,  and  Agricola ;  then  finding 
that  but  little  attention  was  paid  to  him,  he  sniffed  out 
La  Mayeux,  who  kept  herself  still  in  a  corner  of  the 
room,  and  acting  on  the  popular  axiom  of  "  My  friend's 
friends  are  my  friends,"  Killjoy  licked  the  hands  of  the 
young  sempstress,  whom  all  else  had  forgotten. 

By  a  curious  feeling,  this  caress  moved  La  Mayeux 
even  to  tears,  and  she  several  times  passed  her  long, 
thin,  and  white  hand  down  the  intelligent  head  of  the 
dog;  then  thinking  that  she  could  no  longer  be  useful 
as  she  had  done  all  the  small  service  it  was  in  her 
power  to  render,  she  took  the  beautiful  flower  which 
Agricola  had  given  to  her,  opened  the  door  softly 
and  went  out  so  stealthily  that  no  one  observed  her 
departure. 

After  the  expressions  of  mutual  affection,  Dagobert 
his  wife,  and  son  bethought  them  of  the  actual  realities 
of  life. 

"  Poor  Franchise  !  "  said  the  soldier,  looking  towards 
Rose  and  Blanche,  "you  did  not  expect  such  an  agree- 
able surprise  ?  "  ~ 

«  1  \  °£y  rJegre?'  my  dear  husban<V'  replied  Francoise, 
"that  the  daughters  of  General  Simon  will  have  no 
better  apartment  than  this  humble  chamber;  for,  with 
Agricola  s  garret  —  " 

33 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"That  makes  up  our  h6tel,  and  there  are  certainly  some 
more  splendid;  but  comfort  yourself ,  the  poor  children 
are  accustomed  not  to  be  very  particular.  To-morrow  I 
will  go  arm-in-arm  with  my  son,  and  I'll  venture  to  say 
that  it  will  not  be  he  who  will  walk  most  upright  and 
proudly  of  the  two.  We  will  go  and  find  the  father  of 
General  Simon  at  M.  Hardy's  factory,  in  order  to  talk 
matters  over." 

"To-morrow,  father!"  said  Agricola  to  Dagobert; 
"you  will  not  find  M.  Hardy  or  Marshal  Simon's 
father  at  the  manufactory." 

«  What  do  you  say,  my  boy  ?  "  said  Dagobert ;  "  the 
marshal  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  since  1830  the  friends  of  General  Simon 
have  obtained  the  recognition  of  the  title  and  rank  which 
the  emperor  had  conferred  on  him  after  the  battle  of 
Li^ny." 

"  Really?"  cried  Dagobert  with  emotion, " though  that 
ou<rht  not  to  surprise  me  — for  after  all  it  is  but  justice  ; 
and  when  the  emperor  said  a  thing,  the  least  that  could 
be  done  was  to  say  it  after  him.  But  it  is  well  —  I  like 
it  It  goes  to  my  heart— it  moves  me."  Then  address- 
ing the  two  young  maidens,  "  My  loves,  you  hear !  On 
your  arrival  at  Paris,  you  are  daughters  of  a  duke 
and  marshal ;  although  to  see  you  in  this  humble  crib 
one  would  hardly  credit  it,  my  poor  little  duchesses  ;  but 
patience,  and  all  will  be  well  yet.  Old  Simon  must  have 
been  delighted,  my  boy,  to  learn  that  his  son  was 
restored  to  his  rank." 

"  Oh  he  said  he  would  sacrifice  all  ranks  and  all  titles 
to  see  his  son  again ;  for  it  was  during  the  general's 
absence  that  his  friends  solicited  and  obtained  this  jus- 
tice for  him.  Moreover,  the  marshal  is  expected  every 
hour,  for  his  last  letters  from  India  lead  us  to  expect 
his  immediate  arrival." 

At  this  Rose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other,  their 
eyes  filling  with  large  tears. 

34 


THE  RETURN. 


"  Thank  Heaven  !  I  and  the  dear  girls  look  anxiously 
for  his  return.  But  why  should  we  not  find  M.  Hardy 
or  old  M.  Simon  at  the  factory  to-morrow  ? " 

«  Why,  they  left  ten  days  ago,  to  visit  and  get  partic- 
ulars of  an  English  manufactory  established  in  the  south  • 
but  they  will  return  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  Liable!  That  annoys  me.  I  relied  on  seeing  the 
general's  father,  to  talk  over  some  very  important 
matters.  But  I  suppose  you  know  where  to  write  to 
him ;  so  let  him  know  to-morrow,  my  dear  fellow,  that 
his  granddaughters  have  arrived  in  Paris.  In  the  mean 
time,  my  dears,"  he  added,  turning  to  Rose  and  Blanche 
"  my  good  wife  will  share  her  bed  with  you ;  and  as  in 
war  times  we  must  put  up  with  war  fare,  why,  my  dar- 
ling pets,  you  will  be  no  worse  off  here  than  you  were 
on  your  journey." 

"  You  know  we  shall  always  be  well  off  near  you  and 
madame,"  said  Rose. 

"And  then  we  can  think  of  nothing  else  but  the 
delight  of  being  at  last  in  Paris,  since  it  is  here  that  we 
shall  so  soon  find  our  dear  father,"  added  Blanche. 

"It  is  in  that  hope  that  we  will  all  take  patience,"  said 
Hagobert;  "but  then,  after  what  you  expected  to  see  in 
Pans,  you  must  be  much  astonished,  my  children.  Why 
up  to  this  time,  you  have  not  found  it  the  city  paved 
with  gold,  which  you  dreamt  of.  But  that  can't  be 
helped  — patience,  patience  !  You  will  find  that  Paris  is 
not  such  a  bad  place  as  it  may  seem  to  be." 

"  And  then,"  added  Agricola,  gaily,  « I  am  sure  that 
the  young  ladies  will  find,  when  General  Simon  does 
arrive,  that  Paris  will  be  a  real  golden  city." 

"  You  are  right,  M.  Agricola,"  said  Rose,  smiling  : 
you  have  guessed  exactly  !  " 
"  What,  ma'amselle,  do  you  know  my  name'" 
"  To  be  sure  we  do,  M.  Agricola.    We  often  spoke 
Blanche  t0      g°bert'  and  since  with  Gabriel,"  added 

35 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"Gabriel!"  exclaimed  both  mother  and  son,  with 
surprise.  . 

"  Yes,  Gabriel !  "  replied  Dagobert,  making  a  signifi- 
cant sign  to  the  two  orphans.    "  Bless  you,  we  have  as 
much  to  tell  you  as  would  require  a  fortnight,  at  least,  to 
complete  the  tale ;  and,  among  other  wonderful  things, 
you  will  hear  how  and  where  we  met  Gabriel.    All  that 
I  shall  now  say  about  him  is,  that  in  his  way,  and  for 
one  of  his  calling,  he  deserves  to  be  the  brother  of  this 
dear  boy  (I  cannot  help  calling  you  boy,  my  dear  son, 
because  as  such  I  have  always  thought  of  you  —  so  don't 
take  it  amiss),  and  that  they  are  just  fit  for  each  other. 
Good,  excellent  wife,"  continued  Dagobert,  with  emo- 
tion, "  it  is  and  was  a  noble,  a  brave  act,  to  take  this 
poor,  forlorn,  deserted  child,  and,  spite  ^  of  your  poverty, 
to  bring  it  up  as  tenderly  as  your  own."  _ 
"Husband,  so  trifling  a  service  scarcely  merits  praise. 
"  Ah,  but  I  think  it  does ;  and  I  shall  set  a  greater 
value  on  you  than  ever,  for  your  motherly  kindness  and 
courageous  conduct  towards  the  forlorn  boy.  However, 
he  will  be  here  himself,  to  thank  and  bless  you,  to-mor- 
row morning." 

«  Is  my  dear  brother  then  returned  ?  "  cried  the  young 
smith.  "  Who  will  say,  after  all  this,  that  there  are  not 
certain  days  marked  out  for  happiness  ?  And  where  did 
you  fall  in  with  our  dear  Gabriel  ?  " 

«  Why  don't  you  call  me  father  every  time  you  speak 
to  me?"  interrupted  Dagobert,  whose  eyes  and  ears 
seemed  to  revel  in  the  delight  of  beholding  and  listen- 
ing to  each  word  that  fell  from  his  newly  recovered 
treasure.  "You  owe  me  a  long  arrear,  of  eighteen 
years'  standing,  and  I  expect  that  dear  name  will  be 
repeated  till  you  have  paid  off  the  debt ;  unless,  indeed, 
you  are  ashamed  of  your  weather-beaten  old  parent 
since  you  have  taken  to  poetry  and  making  songs. 
Ah,  you  see  I  know  all  about  you,  though  I  have  been 
away." 

36 


THE  RETURN. 


"  My  dear,  dear  father,  how  could  you  for  a  moment 
fancy  such  a  thing  ?  " 

m  "There,  my  noble  fellow,  cheer  up  — I  was  trying  a 
joke  with  you.     No;  I  know  at  a  glance  you  are 
not  the  paltry  coward  to  be  ashamed  of  an  old  father 
though  he  does  happen  to  be  all  the  worse  for  wear' 
But  as  for  Gabriel,  I  will  tell  you  just  now  where 
and  in  what  manner  we  fell  in  with  him;  for  if  you 
expect  to  get  any  sleep  to-night,  you  will  find  yourself 
mistaken.    You  shall  give  me  a  share  of  your  room 
and  we  will  gossip  on  till  morning.    Killjoy  will  find  a 
resting-place,  as  usual,  outside  the  door  of  the  apart- 
ment where  these  dear  children  sleep,  and  — - " 

"  Dear  husband  !  "  interrupted  Francoise,  «  I  am  sadly 
forgettul,  but  the  joyful  surprise  of  the  last  hour  has 
quite  overpowered  me.  Surely  these  young  ladies  and 
yourself  will  take  some  supper;  Agricola  will  fetch 
something  for  you  from  the  traiteur's  directly  " 

"What  say  you,  my  children?"  inquired  Dagobert: 
"  do  you  feel  disposed  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  thank  you,  kind  Dagobert ;  we  are  too  happy 
to  be  hungry."  ^J 

"At  least,"  said  Francoise,  "have  a  little  warm  wine 
and  water,  just  to  warm  you,  my  dear  young  ladies !  It 
is,  1  am  sorry  to  say,  all  I  have  to  offer  you." 

"  To  be  sure  they  will  accept  your  good  offer,  my 
dear  wife,'  answered  Dagobert  for  them;  "the  poor 
things  must  be  very  tired,  and  had  better  retire  to 
rest!  While  you  prepare  their  bed,  I  will  depart  with 
my  boy  here,  and  lodge  myself  in  his  chamber  till  to- 
morrow morning,  when  these  young  ladies  will  prob- 
ably have  arisen;  and  then  I  will  come  and  have  a 

respite"   J0U'  bj  W^  °f  giving  P°°r  A2ricola  a  little 
At  this  moment  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door 
"  It  is  that  good  little  Mayeux  come  to  see  if  we  want 

anything,"  said  Agricola. 

37 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  I  fancied  she  was  here  when  your  father  entered  the 
room,"  said  Francoise. 

«  And  so  she  was,  dear  mother,  but  the  poor  girl  was 
so  fearful  of  being  in  the  way  that  she  retired  without 
your  perceiving  her." 

"  That  knock  was  too  loud  for  her  gentle  tap,  Agricola. 
See  then  who  it  is,  my  dear,"  rejoined  Francoise. 

Before  the  smith  had  time  to  reach  the  door  it  opened, 
and  a  well-dressed  man  of  respectable  look  advanced 
several  steps  into  the  chamber,  casting  a  rapid  glance 
around,  and  finally  fixing  his  eyes  with  earnest  gaze  on 
Rose  and  Blanche. 

«  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  Agricola,  hastily  advancing 
towards  him, "  if  I  remind  you  that  it  is  usual  for  per- 
sons knocking  at  doors  to  wait  until  they  are  told  to 
enter.    What  is  vour  pleasure  ?   Whom  do  you  want  ? 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  answered  the  stranger,  with 
extreme  politeness,  and  speaking  very  slowly  and  delib- 
erately, evidently  with  a  view  to  prolong  his  stay.  "  1 
really  beg  a  thousand  pardons !  I  am  quite  vexed  at  my 
inadvertence.    I  feel  so  confused  —  that,  really  —  " 

«  Well,  well,  sir ! "  interrupted  Agricola,  impatiently ; 
« that  is  'sufficient,  and  more  than  sufficient ;  have  the 
goodness  now  to  state  your  business  here." 

«  May  I  take  the  liberty  of  asking  whether  a  deformed 
young  sempstress,  by  name  Mile.  Soliveau,  does  not  live 

here?"  .  l 

"  No,  sir,  up-stairs !  "  said  Agricola. 

"Then,  upon  my  word,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  man  ot 
politeness,  commencing  a  series  of  profound  bows,  "1 
am  thoroughly  ashamed  of  having  committed  so  great 
a  mistake ;  the  truth  was  I  believed  myself  at  the  door 
of  the  young  person  I  mentioned,  and  whom  I  wished  to 
see  respecting  some  work  required  by  a  lady  ot  nign 
respectability."  .    ,  . 

«  It  is  somewhat  late,"  returned  Agricola,  much  sur- 
prised, «  to  come  upon  such  an  errand.    However,  Mile. 

38 


THE  RETURN. 


Soliveau  is  well  known  to  us,  and  you  can  see  her 
to-morrow ,     she  has  now  retired  to  rest." 

and  ^fyou  W  *  ^  -uses, 

to^Clt:  ^ !  "  Cri6d  AgriC°la>  "d™«^  «*« 
"May  I  venture  to  hope  that  madame  here  and  thesP 
young  lad.es  with  the  gentleman  I  see  opposite,  ImZ 

"LTZP\Cy  aPtgi6S  f°r  thus  «-ntentionS; 
«RpX    -  »      md  Permit  me  t0  assure  them-" 
Really  sir »  interrupted  Agricola,  "if  you  eo  on 
thus  you  will  require  even  greater  indulgence  to  over 
look  the  length  and  tediousness  of  your  fxcuLs  which 

tentnces0of  the  S *'  ^  b,r°Ught  a  8mile  011  *e  coun- 
He  strokeS  Jl  t*8'  plef ed  DaSobert  excessively, 
iie  stroked  down  his  moustache  with  the  utmost  com 

b  yof ^ - d  &  t0  *  Wife'  "Tha* 
Kes  not'nJ  ^    8  sPmt> -»°t  afraid  of  anything! 
±ie  does  not  astonish  you  as  much  as  he  does  me  because 
you  have  been  always  used  to  him ;  but  he  XttW 
I  must  say,  though  he  is  my  son  "  6ll°W' 

aft™!-*6'6  feVemarks'  the  ceremonious  stranger 

£  Shtwltn^  S?e™tendi«g  their  preparation  fo 
tne  night  with  almost  maternal  solicitude. 

Dagobert  and  Agricola,  meanwhile,  wended  their  w»v 
towards  the  garret  occupied  by  the  latter  ™J 

in  £is  Whe^the  /0Un«  smith'  bea™g  a  light 

m  his  hand,  was  preceding  his  father  up  the  steirs,  just 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


as  he  passed  the  chamber  occupied  by  La  Mayeux,  the 
young  gW  spoke  hastily  from  the  dark  comer  m  wh^h 
Ihe  hacl  ensconced  herself,  aud  said,  "  Agncola  a  senous 
danger  threatens  you  !  I  must  speak  to  you !  These 
II  had  been  uttered  so  rapidly,  and  in  so  low  a  tone 
tiiat  Dagobert  heard  them  not;  but,  observing  Agncola 
start  suddenly,  and  an  evident  tremor  pass  over  tarn,  the 
old  soldier  called  out : 

"What,  now,  my  boy!    What  is  the  matter  with 

y°"  Nothing,  father !  "  answered  the  young  smith,  turning 
auickly  towards  him.  «  I  stopped,  because  I  feared  you 
could  not  see  your  way  up  these  strange  stairs 

«  See ' "  exclaimed  the  delighted  old  man  ;  "  why  bless 
you  my  hoy,  I  seem  to  have  changed  my  old  limbs  for 
those  of  a  lad  of  fifteen,  and  to  have  borrowed  his  eyes 
also  "  And  the  veteran,  not  remarking  the  astonish- 
ment Patted  on  the  countenance  of  Agncola  took  his 
arm,  and  the  two  entered  the  small  attic  m  which  they 
were  to  pass  the  night. 

Very  few  minutes  after  the  man  of  polished  manners 
had  returned  from  his  visit  of  inquiry  to  Dagobert  s  wif e 
touch  ng  the  abode  of  La  Mayeux  he  was  hastening 
towards*  the  extremity  of  the  Rue  ^tfdthackney- 

He  quickened  his  steps  as  he  approached  a  hactoey 
coach  drawn  up  in  the  little  square  of  the  cloister  St. 

^Concealed  in  this  fiacre,  his  whole  person  enveloped 
in  a  large  cloak,  was  M.  Rodm. 

"  Well '  "  said  he,  in  an  interrogative  tone. 

"All  right!"  answered  the  other;  "the  two  young 
drls  and  the  man  with  the  large  gray  moustache  have 


were  saying. 

40 


THE  RETURN. 


share  the  bed  of  Francoise  Baudoin,  while  the  old  fellow 
with  the  grizzled  beard  was  to  share  the  chamber  of 
the  young  smith." 

"  Very  well !  "  said  Rodin. 

"I  did  not  like,"  continued  the  polite  speaker,  "to 
insist  upon  seeing  the  humpbacked  sempstress  about  the 
Bacchante  Queen  to-night;  besides,  it  will  serve  as  a 
pretext  for  my  calling  again  to-morrow,  to  ascertain 
what  effect  has  been  produced  by  the  letter  she  would 
receive  by  the  evening's  post,  respecting  the  voun^ 
smith."  J  s 

"  Make  a  point  of  that.  Now,  then,  you  will  proceed 
at  once  (late  as  it  may  be)  with  a  message  from  me  to 
the  confessor  of  Francoise  Baudoin ;  desire  him  to  come 
to  me  without  delay.  Say  he  will  find  me  in  the  street 
Miheu-des-Ursms,  and  do  you  accompany  him.  Stay, 
I  may  not  have  returned,  but  bid  him  await  me  should  I 
be  absent;  and  tell  him,  further,  to  use  all  speed,  as 
business  of  vital  importance  induces  me  to  summon  him 
so  late." 

b  "All  shall  be  faithfully  performed,"  replied  the  pol- 
ished man,  bowing  low  to  Rodin,  whose  fiacre  drove 
rapidly  away. 


41 


CHAPTER  III. 


AGRICOLA  AND  LA  MAYEUX. 

An  hour  after  these  scenes,  a  most  entire  silence 
reigned  in  the  house  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche.  A  flick- 
ering light,  visible  through  two  squares  of  a  glass  door, 
showed  that  La  Mayeux  was  still  watching  ;  for  this 
dark  hole,  without  air,  without  light,  only  admitted  the 
daylight  by  this  door,  which  opened  in  a  narrow  and 
obscure  passage  made  in  the  rafters. 

A  miserable  bed,  a  table,  an  old  trunk,  and  a  chair  so 
filled  this  chilly  abode  that  two  persons  could  not  sit 
down  in  it,  unless  one  were  seated  on  the  bed. 

The  magnificent  flower  which  Agricola  had  given 
La  Mayeux  had  been  carefully  placed  in  a  glass  of  water 
on  a  table  loaded  with  linen,  and  shed  its  sweet  perfume, 
and  expanded  its  purple  chalice,  in  the  centre  of  this 
squalid  closet,  with  its  damp  and  gray  plaster  walls, 
which  a  miserable  candle  feebly  lighted. 

La  Mayeux,  sitting  dressed  on  her  bed,  with  her 
features  full  of  grief,  her  eyes  overflowing  with  tears, 
was  leaning  with  one  hand  on  the  pillow  of  her  couch, 
inclining  her  head  towards  the  door,  listening  with  in- 
tense anxiety,  hoping  every  instant  to  hear  the  step  of 
Agricola. 

The  young  creature's  heart  beat  violently ;  her  face, 
usually  so  wan,  was  now  slightly  coloured,  so  deep  was 
her  emotion.  Sometimes  she  cast  her  eyes  with  affright 
on  a  letter  which  she  held  in  her  hand,  a  letter  which 
had  arrived  by  post  this  evening,  and  had  been  placed 

42 


AGRICOLA  AND  LA  MAYEUX. 

on  her  table  by  the  dyer  (who  was  also  porter  to  the 
house),  whilst  La  Mayeux  had  been  present  at  the  inter- 
view between  Dagobert  and  his  family. 

After  some  time  the  young  girl  heard  a  door  close  to 
ner  own  open  very  gently. 

"Here  he  is,  at  last!"  she  exclaimed;  and  Agricola 
entered  the  room.  8 

"I  waited  until  my  father  was  asleep,"  said  the  young- 
smith  m  a  low  voice,  his  countenance  betraying  curiosity 
rather  than  uneasiness ;  "but  what  is  the  matter,  my 
good  little  Mayeux  ?  How  unhappy  you  look »  What 
makes  you  weep  ?  What  is  the  danger  about  which  you 
have  to  speak  to  me?"  J 

'     !tEere>™d/  replied  La  Mayeux,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  and  handing  to  him  hastily  an  open  letter 

Agricola  held  it  towards  the  light  and  read  on  as 
follows : 

"A  person  who  cannot  disclose  his  name,  but  is  fully 
aware  of  the  fraternal  interest  which  you  take  in  Agri- 
cola Baudoin,  warns  you  that  this  young  and  worthy 
artisan  will,  in  all  probability,  be  arrested  to-morrow." 

m  "Me!"  cried  Agricola,  looking  at  the  girl  with  an 
air  of  extreme  astonishment.  «  What  can  this  mean  ? » 
hands      °n  "  SGmpstress>  hastil?>  clasping  her 

Agricola  resumed,  hardly  able  to  believe  his  eyes. 

"His  song  of  the  'Free  Workmen  '  has  been  made  a 
matter  of  criminal  accusation.  Many  copies  of  it  were 
found  amongst  the  papers  of  a  secret  society,  whose 
leaders  have  been  put  in  prison  after  the  detection  of 
the  conspiracy  in  the  Rue  des  Prouvaires." 

"Alas!"  said  the  little  workwoman,  bursting  into 
tears,  "now  I  understand  it  all.    That  man  who  was 

43 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


prying  about  this  evening,  as  the  dyer  said,  was  no 
doubt  watching  for  your  arrival." 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  The  accusation  is  absurd,  said 
Agricola.  "  Do  not  vex  yourself  about  it,  my  good  Ma- 
yeux.  I  never  bother  myself  about  politics ;  my  verses 
only  prove  my  love  of  my  fellow  creatures,  and  if  any 
copies  of  them  were  found  amongst  the  papers  of  a  secret 
society,  it  is  no  fault  of  mine." 

And  he  threw  the  letter  on  the  table  disdainfully. 

«  Read  on,  I  pray  you,  read  on,"  said  La  Mayeux  to 
him. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  request  it." 
And  Agricola  continued. 

«  A  warrant  to  arrest  him  is  issued  ;  his  innocence  no 
doubt  will  be  made  evident  sooner  or  later,  but  he  will 
do  well  in  the  mean  time  immediately  to  get  out  of  the 
way;  that  he  may  avoid  an  imprisonment  which  may 
last  for  two  or  three  months,  and  which  would  be  a 
dreadful  blow  to  his  mother,  of  whom  he  is  the  sole 
support. 

"  A  Sincere  Friend,  who  must  remain  unknown. 

After  a  moment's  silence  the  smith  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  his  countenance  became  composed,  and  he 
said  with  a  laugh  to  the  sempstress : 

"Courage,  my  good  little  Mayeux,  — this  is  a  mere 
hoax.  It  is  an  attempt  to  make  us  April  fools  by  antic- 
ipation." 

"  Agricola,  for  the  love  of  heaven,"  said  the  sempstress 
in  a  beseeching  tone,  "  do  not  treat  this  so  lightly.  Be- 
lieve in  my  presentiments,  —  attend  to  this  warning." 

"  Again,  my  poor  dear  girl,  I  tell  you,  it  is  more  than 
two  months  since  my  song  of  the  <  Workmen '  was  printed, 
and  it  is  not  in  the  least  political ;  besides,  they  would 
not  have  waited  until  now  if  they  meant  to  prosecute 
me." 

44 


AGRICOLA  AND  LA  MAYEUX. 

«  But  only  reflect  on  all  the  circumstances.  It  is  not 
two  days  since  the  plot  in  the  Rue  des  Prouvaires  was 
discovered ;  and  if  your  verses  were  unknown  until  then 
having  been  now  seized  with  the  persons  arrested  for 
this  conspiracy,  why,  nothing  more  is  requisite  to 
implicate  yon." 

"Implicate  me!  Verses  in  which  I  boast  of  the  love 
of  labour  and  charity !  Really,  Justice  must  be  blind  and 
proud.  We  must  then  give  every  dog  a  stick  to  feel  his 
way  with, 

«  Agricola,"  said  the  young  girl,  in  despair  at  seeing 
the  smith  jocose  at  such  a  moment,  « I  beseech  vou, 
hear  me  No  doubt  in  your  verses  you  uphold  the  holy 
duty  of  labour  but  you  lament  in  painful  lines  the 
unjust  lot  of  the  poor  artisans  who  are  hopelessly  sen- 
tenced to  the  miseries  of  life;  you  maintain  the  holy 
brotherhood  but  your  good  and  noble  heart  is  indignant 
wi  h  the  selfish  and  the  wicked.  In  fact  you  advocate 
with  all  your  energy  the  enfranchisement  of  work-peo- 
ple less  fortunate  than  yourself,  who  have  not  such 
employers  as  the  generous  M.  Hardy.  Well,  tell  me 
Agnco  a,  m  these  troublous  times  is  there  more  wanting 
to  implicate  you,  if  several  copies  of  your  songs  have 
been  seized,  together  with  the  individuals  arrested  »  " 

At  these  sensible  and  excited  words  of  this  worthv 
creature,  who  drew  her  reasoning  from  her  heart, 
Agricola  was  moved,  and  began  to  contemplate  the 
warning  more  seriously. 

Seeing  him  thus  serious,  La  Mayeux  continued  : 

"  Remi  ?"D  remember  Remi'  y°w  felW  workman ! » 

imnoTwpletteYf  !f'  alth°Ugh  0116  Warently  of  no 
importance  was  found  on  a  person  arrested  last  year  on 

month."6      C°nSpiraCy'  and  he  was  P»t  in  P^son  for  a 

J. LT-iUe'  MayeuX j  but  the  iniusti(*  of  the  charge  was 
speedily  recognised,  and  he  was  liberated." 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  After  having  passed  a  month  in  prison ;  and  that  is 
what  you  are  very  sensibly  advised  to  avoid.  Agricola, 
pray  think  of  this —  a  month  in  prison  —  and  your 
mother." 

These  words  of  La  Mayeux  made  a  deep  impression 
on  Agricola,  who  took  up  the  letter  and  read  it  again 
attentively. 

"  And  the  man  who  was  watching  all  the  evening 
about  the  house."  continued  the  young  girl ;  "  I  cannot 
help  associating  the  two  circumstances.  Alas !  what  a 
blow  for  your  father  and  your  poor  mother,  who  can  no 
longer  earn  anything.  Are  not  you  now  their  only 
reliever  ?  Only  think  what  would  become  of  them  if 
they  were  deprived  of  your  labour ! " 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  a  heavy  blow,"  said  Agricola, 
throwing  the  letter  on  the  table.  "  What  you  say  about 
Remi  is  perfectly  just ;  he  was  as  innocent  as  I  am,  — 
an  error  of  justice,  no  doubt  involuntarily,  but  not  the 
less  cruel.  But  even  now,  let  me  say,  they  do  not  arrest 
a  man  without  hearing  him." 

"  But  they  arrest  first  and  hear  afterwards,"  said  La 
Mayeux,  with  bitterness ;  "  then  after  a  month  or  two 
they  restore  him  to  liberty,  and  if  he  have  a  wife  and 
children  who  have  no  dependence  but  his  daily  toil, 
what  are  they  to  do  whilst  their  only  support  is  in  gaol  ? 
They  hunger  —  they  thirst  —  and  they  weep." 

At  these  simple  and  touching  words  of  La  Mayeux, 
Agricola  was  deeply  moved. 

"  A  month  without  labour !  "  he  said,  with  a  sad  and 
thoughtful  air,  "  and  my  mother  and  father,  and  the  two 
young  girls  who  now  form  part  of  our  family  until  the 
Marshal  Simon  or  his  father  arrive  in  Paris.  Oh,  you 
are  right;  and  in  spite  of  myself  this  thought  frightens 
me." 

«  Agricola,"  said  La  Mayeux,  suddenly,  "  if  you  were 
to  consult  M.  Hardy,  —  he  is  so  kind,  and  his  character 
stands  so  high,  so  much   esteemed,  that  in  offering 

46 


AGRICOLA  AND  LA  MAYEUX. 

hi.  wort  for  you  a,,  wouU  nM  f!QMs 

*as  ^o^ms*  — •  - « 

And  the  smith  concealed  his  forehead  in  his  hands 

the  year  18S2  j    }   be  remembered  that  in 

Eueydes  ProwaSrt  V  ^  C°nS^  of  «"> 

«  How 7°U      SaV6d ! "  She  said- 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  experienced  a  feeling 
of  acute  jealousy ;  another  woman  was  so  happy  as  to 
be  able  to  aid  him  she  idolised,  —  she,  a  poor,  helpless, 
powerless,  wretched  creature ! 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  Agricola  with  surprise. 
"What  could  the  young  lady  do  in  such  a  matter?" 

"  Did  she  not  say,  '  Remember  my  name,  and,  under 
any  circumstance,  address  yourself  to  me?' " 

"  She  did." 

"  This  young  lady,  in  her  high  condition,  must  have 
powerful  friends  who  could  protect  and  defend  you ;  go 
and  see  her  to-morrow  morning;  tell  her^all  without 
any  reserve,  and  ask  her  aid  and  protection." 

«  But,  my  dear  Mayeux,  what  do  you  suppose  she  can 
do?" 

"Listen.  I  remember  hearing  my  father  say  once 
that  he  had  saved  one  of  his  friends  from  going  to 
prison  by  giving  security  for  him.  It  will  be  easy  to 
convince  this  young  lady  of  your  innocence,  and  she  will 
be  your  security,  and  then  I  should  think  you  would 
have  nothing  more  to  fear."  . 

"  Ah,  my  poor  girl ;  ask  such  a  service  ol  anybody  I 
That  is  not  to  be  done." 

"  Relieve  me,  Agricola,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  sorrow- 
fully "  I  would  not  advise  you  to  ask  anything  which 
could  lower  you  in  the  eyes  of  any  person,  and  particu- 
larly in  the  eyes  of  this  lady.  You  do  not  ask  her  for 
money,  but  only  to  become  security  in  order  that  you 
may  continue  your  labour,  and  that  your  family  may  not 
be  deprived  of  its  sole  support.  Believe  me,  Agricola, 
such  a  request  is  only  noble  and  worthy  on  your  part ; 
the  heart  of  this  lady  is  generous,  she  will  understand 
you,  and  the  security  will  be  nothing  for  her,  whilst  it 
will  be  everything  for  you.  The  lives  of  all  your  family 
depend  upon  it."  , 
"  You  are  right,  good  Mayeux,"  said  Agricola,  with 
deep  sorrow ;  "  and  perhaps  my  best  step  is  to  ask  this 

48 


AGRICOLA  AND  LA  MAYEUX. 

request.    If  this  young  lady  consents  to  render  me  this 

f  Zll\aUd  a  S6CU/ity  Wi"  rea11^  keeP  me  out  of  prison! 
I  shall  be  prepared  for  whatever  turns  up.  But,  no,  no  " 
added  the  smith,  rising,  «  I  shall  never  dare  to  address 
this  young  lady  What  right  have  I  to  do  so  ?  What  s 
the  small  service  I  have  rendered  to  her  in  comparison 
with  that  which  I  ask  of  her  ?  "  ^  on 

"Do  you  think,  then,  Agricola,  that  a  generous  heart 
measures  the  services  it  can  render  by  those  which  it 
has  received  ?    Believe  me,  the  heart  is  not  so  selfish  I 

a^bot"  T  creatu^.wh0  cannot  be  compared  with 
anybody, —  I  am  nothing  —  I  can  only  be  nothing 
Well,  I  am  still  sure -yes,  Agricola,  I  am  sure  that 
this  young  lady,  so  far  above  me,  will  feel  as  I  do  under 
these  circumstances.  Yes,  as  I  do,  so  will  she  compre- 
hend your  cruel  position,  and  will  do  with  joy,  pleaTre 
and  gratitude  what  I  should  do;  if,  alas!  I  could  do 
anything  but  only  devote  myself  uselessly  _» 

In  spite  of  herself,  La  Mayeux  pronounced  these  last 
words  with  so  deep  and  touching  an  expression,  "re 

untoitunate  obscure,  despised,  miserable,  and  decrepit 
creature  made  between  herself  and  Adrienne  de  Cardo- 
vi  le,  the  respondent  type  of  all  that  was  young,  beauti- 
ful, and  wealthy,  that  Agricola  was  moved  to  tears  and 

£;nfm°ontio°nf  ^  May6UX'8  haDdS'  he         ^  *  ^ 

E^^A^r^  of  noble 

"  Unfortunately  I  can  only  advise  you  —  " 
"And  your  advice  shall  be  followed,  my  excellent 
Mayeux;  you  have  the  most  exalted  mind  I  Low  and 
you  persuade  me  to  this  attempt  by  making  me  believe 

your  tn  >'eart  °f  ^  Adrienn6  *  Car«e 

l»AMathh  SrnCer!  comPliment  and  simple  comparison, 
La  Mayeux  forgot  nearly  all  she  had  just  suffered,  -  so 

49 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


delightful,  so  consolatory  were  her  feelings.  If,  indeed, 
for  certain  human  beings  fatally  destined  to  suffering, 
there  are  griefs  unknown  to  the  world  beside,  there  are 
also  for  them  humble  and  gentle  joys  unknown  to  others  ; 
the  least  word  of  soft  affection  which  elevates  them  in 
their  own  eyes  is  so  grateful,  so  delightful  to  the  poor 
souls  habitually  inured  to  disdain,  hardships,  and,  above 
all,  to  the  deep  desolation  of  their  own  distrust. 

«  Well,  then,  that  is  settled ;  and  you  will  go  to-mor- 
row morning  to  the  young  lady,  — won't  you?"  inquired 
La  Mayeux,  whilst  fresh  hope  sprang  up  within  her 
breast.  "At  daybreak  I  shall  go  down  and  watch  at 
the  street  door  to  see  if  I  observe  any  suspicious  person, 
so  that  I  may  warn  you." 

«  Good  and  excellent  girl !  "  said  Agricola,  more  and 
more  moved. 

"  You  must  try  and  go  before  your  father  awakes ;  the 
young  lady  lives  in  a  lonely  quarter,  and  going  there 
will  be  almost  to  conceal  yourself  " 

"I  think  I  hear  my  father's  voice,"  said  Agricola, 
suddenly. 

The  room  of  La  Mayeux  was  so  near  the  attic  01 
the  smith,  that  he  and  the  sempstress  listening  heard 
Dagobert,  who  was  in  the  dark,  say : 

"Agricola,  are  you  asleep,  my  dear  boy?  I  have 
had  my  first  nap,  and  my  tongue  wants  to  be  wag- 
ging." 

"Go  quickly,  Agricola,"  said  La  Mayeux,  "your 
absence  will  make  him  uneasy;  and  be  sure  you  do 
not  go  out  in  the  morning  before  I  have  seen  you  to  say 
if  anything  has  happened  to  cause  suspicion." 

«  Agricola !  What,  ain't  you  there  ? "  said  Dagobert, 
in  a  louder  tone. 

"Here  I  am,  father,"  said  the  smith,  leaving  the 
closet  of  La  Mayeux,  and  going  into  his  fathers 
garret. 

"  I  had  been  to  close  the  shutters  of  the  loft  which 

50 


AGRICOLA  AND  LA  MAYEUX. 

lttTyZ"ei  ^       Wind ;  1  th°Ught  the  n0ise  miSht 

th!fThank/'  ml  hr&7l  h0y;  but  **  was  not  *e  noise 
ttrr,  T"  sai.iDagobert,  gently ;  « it  was  a  strong 
desire  for  talking  with  you.  Ah,  my  dear  lad,  it  is  quite 
a  fever  that  devours  an  old  fool  of  a  father,  who  has  not 
seen  his  son  for  eighteen  years." 

"  Will  you  have  a  light,  father  ?" 

"No,  no,  that's  a  luxury;  we  can  talk  in  the  dark 
and  then  I  shall  have  a  new  pleasure  in  seeing  you 
to-morrow  morning  at  daybreak.  It  will  be  as  though 
I  saw  you  for  the  first  time,  or  second  time." 

The  door  of  Agricola's  chamber  closed,  and  La  Mayeux 
heard  no  more.  ' 

The  poor  girl  threw  herself  with  her  clothes  on  upon 
her  bed,  and  did  not  close  an  eye  all  night,  waiting  with 
sffety         7  8  ' th8t  She  might  Watch  for  Agricda's 

However  in  spite  of  her  anxieties  for  the  morrow,  she 
sometimes  fell  into  melancholy  reveries,  comparing  the 
conversation  she  had  had  in  the  silence  of  the  night  with 
the  man  she  loved  in  secret,  with  what  might  have  been 
that  conversation  if  she  were  beautifully  attractive  —if 
she  were  loved  as  she  did  love,  with  chaste  and  deep 
devotion.  But  then  reflecting  that  she  could  never  have 
the  heavenly  charm  of  reciprocal  love,  she  found  her 

Aricoaia0n  m  ^  h°Pe  °f  havi"g  rendered  ser™e  to 
At  daybreak  La  Mayeux  rose  gently,  and,  descending 
the  staircase  noiselessly,  went  to  watch  that  no  harm 
threatened  Agricola. 


51 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  MORNING. 


The  night,  which  had  heen  damp  and  foggy,  gave 
Dlace  to  a  clear  though  cold,  frosty  morning;  and  look- 
fig  upwards  through  the  small  skylight  which  opened 
torn  Agricola's  garret,  and  afforded  the  only  means  of 
Ventilating  the  apartment,  a  tiny  patch  of  blue  sky  could 

b<3  TdheCechamher  occupied  by  the  young  smith  was  scarcely 
sunerior  to  that  of  La  Mayeux.  Over  the  small  deal 
table  on  which  he  wrote  his  poetical  insp  rations  hung 
a  small  portrait  of  Beranger,  the  people's  idol  and 
favourite  poet, -in  whose  hearts  he  will  ever  live,  as 
the  immortal  writer  whose  rare  and  wonderful  gemus 
celebrated  their  glories  and  bewailed  their ^« 
while  he  informed  their  mmds  and  enlightened  their 

UleCu?L  day  had  hardly  dawned,  Dagobert  and 
bis  son  were  already  risen;  the,  latter  ^d  sufficient 
self-command  to  conceal  his  uneasiness  from  his  parent 
for  his  had  been  a  restless  pillow,  and  the  more  he 
reflected  the  more  serious  grew  his  fears. 

The  recent  discovery  of  the  rash  enterprise  in  the  Kue 
des  Prouvaires  had  led  to  a  considerable  number  ot 
arrests,  and  the  finding  several  copies  <*^"W**» 
«  Free  Workmen  "  in  the  house  of  one  of  the  principals 
in  the  conspiracy  might,  indeed,  temporarily  com pro- 
mise the  safety  of  the  young  smith.  H^er  as  we 
before  said,  these   mental  reflections  were  carelully 


THE  MORNING. 


hidden  from  his  father,  who  was  far  from  suspecting 
kbour^d  miDd  UDder  Whi0h  Ws  "dearP  bo^ 

Seated  by  the  side  of  their  small  bed,  the  soldier,  who 
at  the  first  glimmer  of  light  had  arisen  and  shaved  and 
dressed  himself  with  military  precision,  sat  with  Agri 
cola  whose  hands  he  affectionately  held  in  his  own 
while  from  fame  to  time  his  eye  wandered  over  The' 
beloved  features  of  his  newly  restored  son,  on  whose 
fine  manly  figure  he  gazed  with  intense  deligh^d 
gratified  pride.  8  na 

"Ah,  you  are  laughing  at  me,  my  boy!  "  said  he  at 
length ;  "  you  are  smiling  to  see  an  old  fellow  like  me  so 
proud  of  his  son  !  But  last  night  I  could  not  half  set 
you  as  I  do  now  by  the  help  of  daylight.  Now  I  can 
observe  every  feature  I  can  see  the"  exact  colour  of 
your  eyes -your  hair -and,  what  an  old  fool  I  am  >_ 

di,n/°U9  wl  I  hke  t0  866  with  th°se  fine  mous- 
taches ?  What  a  capital  grenadier  or  horse-soldier  you 
would  make!  Tell  me,  my  dear  son,  did  you  never 
wish  to  be  a  soldier?"  '        J  never 

"  Think  of  my  poor  mother  if  I  had  '  " 

^•"^ighi  qnit?  right;  and'  besides,  I  cannot  heln 
thinking  that  soldiering  days  are  gone  by,  and  the  on  v 
use  now  for  old  fellows  like  myself  is  to  be  placed  n 
the  ch^ney-corner  like  an  old  rusty  carbine.  We  have 
done  our  work,  I  expect." 

"Yes,"  answered  Agricola,  "but  if  your  time  has 

fhr,^'  ^  dayS  of  heroism  ***  glory  while 

they  lasted;"  and,  then  looking  tenderly  and  proudly  at 
his  father,  he  added,  in  a  tone  of  exultation,P«  for  me 
tis  glory. enough  to  feel  and  know  myself  your  son"" 
"As  for  that,  my  dear  boy,"  replied  the  gratified  old 
man,  "I  can  but  say  that,  if  an  old  father's  love  is  wor  h 

t  lgaPnd°1  I  feSen  \gT  T  ^  t0  boast  «^ 
will    and  it  I  feel  such  tenderness  for  you  now  what 

will  it  be  when  we  have  lived  longer  together     For  my 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


part  I  feel  like  a  hungry,  half  starved  wretch,  who  has 
been  kept  a  length  of  time  without  food.  A  little  will 
not  do  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  hunger,  and  it  must  be 
a  hearty  meal,  indeed,  that  will  disgust  him.  Ah,  1 
shall  tire  you  out,  my  boy,  I  fear.  I  can  hardly  believe 
that  I  shall  have  you  to  look  at,  as  I  do.  now,  every 
morning  and  evening,  and  every  day— the  very  idea 
seems  to  overpower  and  bewilder  me  — I  cannot  under- 
stand so  much  happiness  being  in  store  for  me." 

These  words  made  Agricola  start,  and  a  thrill  of  an- 
o-uish  pervaded  his  frame  as  he  thought  of  the  threatened 
separation,  which  would  so  cruelly  overthrow  the  fond 
anticipations  of  his  father. 

"  And  you  are  quite  happy,"  continued  the  old  man, 
»  are  you  not,  under  so  kind  a  master  as  M.  Hardy  ?  " 

«  Indeed  you  may  say  so,"  answered  the  son ;  <6  a 
more  just,  generous,  or  upright  man  does  not  exist. 
Ah  did  you  but  know  the  wonders  he  has  effected  m 
his'  manufactory  !  Compared  with  other  establishments 
it  is  a  perfect  heaven  upon  earth !  " 
"Really!"  „ 
«  You  will  be  able  to  see  and  judge  for  yourselt ;  the 
very  countenances  of  his  work-people  exhibit  joy  and 
sincere  affection  wherever  his  name  is  mentioned,  and 
all  revere  and  love  him  as  the  best  of  masters  and  most 
generous  of  friends." 

« Why,  your  M.  Hardy  must  be  a  sort  of  magi- 
cian ! "  „  ,         ,  . 

"Yes,  my  dear  father,  a  magician  powerful  enough  to 
render  labour  attractive,  and  a  matter  even  of  pleasure 
to  those  engaged  in  it,  and  that  by  kind  treatment  and  a 
liberal  remuneration.  In  the  first  place,  he  gfves  us  all 
a  share  in  the  profits  of  our  work,  so  as  to  create  an 
interest  in  its  success ;  then  he  has  built  large  and  com- 
modious buildings,  in  which,  at  a  less  cost  than  they 
could  obtain  the  most  humble  lodgings,  the  work-people 
are  accommodated  with  large,  airy,  cheerful  apartments, 

54 


THE  MORNING. 


and  where,  besides,  they  can  have  all  the  benefits  of 
constant  companionship  and  mutual  society:  but  vou 
will  see  —  jou  will  see  ! "  y 

«  Paris  may  well  be  called  the  city  of  wonders !  Well 
thank  my  stars,  I  have  once  more  returned  to  it,  and 
never  as  I  trust,  to  leave  you  or  your  good  mother 
again  I 

*  «!ih?S,  faW  answered  Agricola,  suppressing 
a  sigh,  "that  we  shall  not  be  called  upon  to  part'  It 
will  be  the  greatest  possible  delight,  both  to  my  mother 
and  myself,  to  have  you  always  with  us,  and  to  make 
you  torget  the  dangers  you  have  passed,  as  well  as 
all  you  have  suffered." 

"Suffered!  Not  I -not  a  bit;  or,  if  I  have,  devil 
take  me  if  I  have  not  forgotten  all  about  it  in  this  joyful 
meeting.  _  Look  me  well  in  the  face,  and  tell  me  if  you 
can  perceive  the  least  mark  of  suffering.  I  tell  you  that, 
from  the  instant  of  my  putting  my  foot  in  this  house,  all 
my  troubles  flew  away,  and  I  felt  myself  a  young  man 
agam.  Ah,  you  shall  see  me  walk  by  and  by '  I  will 
wager  a  trifle  now,  I  shall  leave  you  behind.  Mind  you 
dress  yourself  in  all  your  best,  and  when  we  go  out 
together -  eh,  my  boy  ?_  won't  the  people  stare  at  us  ! 
1 11  be  bound  when  they  look  at  your  black  moustache, 

EfL  Y66  ?7  fTray  one>they  will  say, 'There  goes 
father  and  son  Now  I  think  of  it,  let  us  just  plan  out 
oui  day.  First,  I  want  you  to  write  to  the  father  of 
General  Simon,  telling  him  of  the  arrival  of  his  grand- 
children in  Pans,  and  that  he  will  be  so  good  as  to 
hasten  hither  without  delay  ;  his  presence  being  required 
upon  very  important  business  relative  to  the  children. 
While  you  are  writing,  I  will  step  down-stairs  and  say  a 
few  words  to  my  old  woman,  and  just  see  how  my  two 
little  dears  are,  and  wish  them  good  morning.  We  will 
have  a  bit  of  something  to  eat  together,  and  then  your 

ft  IlU  S°  to™88'  1  SUpp08e'  for  1  see  sh<>  has  all 
hei  old  fancy  for  that  sort  of  thing.    Well,  if  it  amuses 

55 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


her,  what  matters  ?    And  while  she  is  at  church  we  will 
take  a  little  turn  out  together." 

"Father,"  said  Agricola,  with  some  embarrassment, 
"this  morning,  unfortunately,  I  cannot  go  out  with 
you!" 

"Not  go  out  with  me!     Why,  it  is  Sunday,  you 

know!"  i    n  . 

"  I  am  aware  of  it,  dear  father,"  said  Agricola,  hesi- 
tating ;  "  but  I  promised  to  go  all  the  morning  to  the 
manufactory,  to  complete  a  piece  of  work  which  is  wanted 
in  a  hurry,  and  were  I  to  fail  it  would  be  a  considerable 
loss  as  well  as  inconvenience  to  M.  Hardy.  I  shall  soon 
be  at  liberty  again." 

"Well,"  said  the  soldier,  with  a  sigh  of  regret,  "I 
had  promised  myself,  my  boy,  to  have  my  first  walk  in 
Paris  with  you  this  morning.    But  it  cannot  be  helped, 

 you  must  mind  your  work,  because  you  have  so  good 

a  master,  and,  also,  because  it  gives  you  the  means  of 
maintaining  your  mother.  Yet  it  is  vexatious  —  devil- 
ishly vexatious  ;  but  stay,  see  how  soon  happiness  spoils 
us,  and  makes  us  selfish  and  unjust.  Look  at  me  now, 
grumbling  away  like  an  old  churl,  just  because  my  prom- 
ised pleasure  is  put  off  for  a  few  hours,  without  recollect- 
ing that  for  eighteen  years  I  have  been  hoping  for  the 
happiness  of  beholding  you,  without  once  venturing  to  be 
sure  I  should  ever  have  my  desire  gratified.  Bah,  I  am 
nothing  better  than  an  old  fool !  So  let  us  say  no  more 
about  it,  but '  vive  la  joiej  and  my  dearest  son,  Agricola  ; " 
and,  as  though  to  indemnify  himself  for  his  disappointment 
the  old  soldier  gaily  and  affectionately  embraced  his  son. 

Poor  Agricola  shuddered,  even  in  the  midst  of  his 
father's  caresses,  lest  he  should  see  the  door  open  and 
La  Mayeux's  apprehensions  be  realised. 

"  I  am  better  now,"  said  Dagobert,  cheerily ;  "  come, 
let  us  talk  a  little  about  affairs  of  business.  Do  you 
know  where  I  shall  be  able  to  find  the  addresses  of  all 
the  notaries  in  Paris  ?  " 

56 


THE  MORNING. 


"  No,  I  do  not  j  but  nothing  is  more  easy." 

to  some  notary  in  Paris,  to  whom  T  woo  ,w  1  cted 
directly  I  rea/hed  that  city!  t^ff^T! 
had  carefully  written  down  the  name  and  address  fn  mv 
pocketbook,  but  it  was  stolen  from  me  on  the  road  and 
all  I  can  do  to  recollect  this  man's  name,  I  cannot  knock 

Two  distinct  taps  at  the  garret  door  made  Asmcola 

ne  tnougnt  ol  the  warrant  for  his  apprehension  nnrl  Mit 
behoved  the  persons  had  arrived  toKSff4 

Dagobert,  who  had  quickly  turned  his  head  in  «,» 
direction  from  which  the  noise  proceeded,  d id  not  ob 


"  Come  in ! 


The  door  opened,  and  Gabriel,  attired  in  black  caswt 
and  round  hat,  appeared  before  the  astonished  pair 
lo  recognise  his,  adopted  brother  at  a  glance  to  n,,h 


"  My  dear  brother !  " 
"  Agricola !  " 


"  Gabriel ! 
"  After  so  long  an  absence !  " 
"  You  have  come  at  last '  " 

misTSSnarrarndthtL0nIy  ^  fchan«ed  between  ** 
otheTH  cToset/ra^  ^  "*  ^  Md  each 

dry  the  large  drops  which  gathered  in  his  eyes  There 
was,  mdeed,  something  indescribably  touching  in  the 

K7 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

tenderness  of  these  two  young  men,  whose  hearts  so 
closely  resembled  each  other,  while  their  outward  forms 
were  so  entirely  different;  the  fine  manly  countenance 
of  Agricola  presenting  a  powerful  contrast  to  the  ex- 
treme delicacy  and  almost  angelic  sweetness  of  Gabriel's 
physiognomy. 

"  I  learned  of  your  approaching  arrival  by  my  father," 
said  the  young  smith,  at  length,  to  his  adopted  brother, 
"  and  expected  to  see  you  from  one  minute  to  the  other ; 
and  yet  my  happiness  is  increased  a  hundred  fold !  " 

"  And  my  dear  mother !  "  said  Gabriel,  affectionately 
pressing  the  hands  of  Dagobert,  "  did  you  find  her  quite 
well  ? " 

"Yes,  my  dear  son!  And  she  will  grow  stronger 
every  day  now  we  are  all  once  more  united  around  her. 
There  is  nothing  like  joy  for  improving  the  health." 

Then,  addressing  Agricola,  who,  forgetM  of  his  fears 
of  arrest,  was  regarding  the  missionary  with  ineffable 
affection,  he  said : 

"  Who  would  think  now,  that  under  this  delicate  ex- 
terior, and  a  countenance  gentle  as  that  of  a  young  girl, 
our  Gabriel  conceals  the  heart  and  courage  of  a  lion  ? 
For  I  told  you  with  what  intrepidity  he  saved  the  lives 
of  General  Simon's  daughters,  and  then  strove  to 
preserve  mine  likewise." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Gabriel !  "  cried  the  young  smith, 
who  for  several  minutes  had  been  attentively  surveying 
the  missionary,  "  what  is  the  matter  with  your  forehead  ?  " 

Gabriel,  who  had  thrown  aside  his  hat,  was  so  placed 
that  the  light  of  the  small  window  fell  directly  on  his 
pale,  mournful  countenance,  so  as  to  completely  display 
the  circular  scar  which  surrounded  his  forehead  from 
one  temple  to  the  other. 

In  the  midst  of  the  various  emotions  and  rapid  events 
which  had  followed  the  shipwreck,  Dagobert  had^  not, 
during  his  short  conference  with  Gabriel  in  the  Chateau 
de  Cardoville,  observed  the  cicatrix  which  encircled  the 

58 


THE  MORNING. 


brows  of  the  young  missionary ;  but  now,  having  his 
attention  directed  to  it  by  Agricola,  he  exclaimed ,  with 
surprise : 

«  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  most  singular  mark  on 
your  forehead  ?" 

"  And  look,  dear  father,  he  has  deep  scars  on  his 
hands  also  !  exclaimed  the  young  smith,  seizing  one  of 
the  hands  which  the  missionary  had  extended  towards 
him,  as  though  to  calm  his  uneasiness. 

"  Gabriel  my  excellent  boy,  what  does  all  this  ste- 
rnly I  And  who  has  inflicted  these  fearful  wounds  ? » 
lhen,  taking  the  missionary's  hand,  he  in  his  turn 
examined  it  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur,  saying- 

«  When  I  was  in  Spain,  one  of  my  comrades  was 
taken  down  from  a  cross  by  the  roadside,  where  the 
monks  had  first  nailed  him,  and  then  left  him  to  perish 
of  hunger  and  thirst.  Ever  after  he  bore  on  his  hands 
marks  precisely  similar  to  these." 

"  My  father  is  right !  »  cried  Agricola,  deeply  affected. 
Yes,  it  is  easy  now  to  see  the  cause  of  these  scars :  my 
dear  brother's  hands  have  been  pierced  also »  " 

«  Do  not  heed  such  trifles,"  said  Gabriel,  while  a  look 
ot  unaffected  modesty  suffused  his  countenance.  «  I  was 
sent  upon  a  mission  to  the  savages  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, who  not  only  refused  to  hear  me,  but  first  crucified 
me,  and  then  commenced  scalping  me,  when  a  merciful 
Providence  saved  me  from  their  murderous  hands." 

Poor  boy!"  exclaimed  Dagobert;  "were  you  un- 
armed, or  was  your  escort  insufficient  to  protect  you  ?  " 
vrHh  V  "2  not,allowed  t0  carry  arms,"  said  Gabriel, 
with  a  gentle  smile,  «  and  we  never  have  any  escort." 

Well,  then,  your  comrades,— the  party  who  were 
sent  along  with  you,     did  they  make  no  effort  to  defend 
you  !    cried  Agricola,  impetuously. 
"  I  was  quite  alone,  dear  brother." 
"Alone?" 

"  Yes,  with  merely  a  guide." 


59 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  What !  "  cried  Dagobert,  unable  to  comprehend  or 
believe  what  he  heard;  "do  you  really  mean  to  say 
that,  alone  and  unarmed,  you  ventured  into  the  midst  of 
this  land  of  savages  ?  " 

"  This  is  sublime  devotion,  indeed ! "  murmured 
Agricola. 

"  True  religion,"  replied  Gabriel,  with  simple  earnest- 
ness, "  cannot  be  imposed  by  force  ;  'tis  by  gentle  persua- 
sion alone  these  poor  barbarians  could  be  brought  to 
embrace  the  truths  and  heavenly  doctrines  of  our  holy 
creed,  which  enjoineth  charity  above  all  things." 

«  But  when  persuasion  fails  — "  interrupted  Agricola, 
hastily. 

«  Then,  my  brother,  'tis  our  willing  duty  to  die,  it 
needs  be,  in  support  of  the  faith  we  profess  —  pitying 
and  praying  for  those  who  refuse  to  hear  us ;  for  ours  is 
a  religion  of  love  and  peace." 

A  momentary  silence  prevailed  after  this  simple  and 
touching  reply. 

Dagobert  was  too  courageous  himself  not  to  luliy 
comprehend  the  calm  yet  devoted  heroism  of  his  adopted 
son,  whom,  as  well  as  Agricola,  he  gazed  on  with  the 
most  intense  admiration,  mingled  with  respect. 

Gabriel,  without  in  the  slightest  degree  affecting  an 
excessive  share  of  modesty,  seemed  unfeignedly  at  a  loss 
to  understand  the  impression  he  had  caused;  and,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  soldier,  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
uneasiness :  n 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  father  i 

"The  matter?"  cried  the  old  man;  "why,  it  is  just 
this,  that  after  having  for  thirty  years  fancied  myself 
as  brave  as  any  man,  I  have  found  my  master— my 
superior  — and  here  he  stands,"  taking  Gabriels  hand 
affectionately  in  his  own.  _  n 

"  But  what  have  I  done,  to  deserve  such  praise  ( 

« I  tell  you  what,  my  noble  fellow,"  exclaimed  Dago- 
hert,  pointing  enthusiastically  to  the  wounds  on  Gabriel's 

60 


THE  MORNING. 


temples,  « those  scars  are  as  glorious  and  honourable  — 
nay,  more  so  — to  you  as  the  wounds  such  as  we,  who 
are  fighters  by  profession,  pride  ourselves  on  having: 
received  in  battle." 

"My  father  is  right,"  added  Agricola,  with  animated 
tones.  «  Ah,  such  courage,  charity,  and  resignation  as 
this  would  indeed  make  me  love  and  venerate  you  as 
priest,  almost  as  my  mother  does." 

"  Nay,"  said  Gabriel,  in  painful  confusion,  « let  me 
beseech  you  not  to  overrate  my  humble  doings  thus ' 
Do  not  praise  me  more  than  I  deserve." 

"Praise  you!"  returned  Dagobert;  "why,  just  look 
here  :  when  I  was  sent  to  face  the  enemy,  did  I  go  alone  ? 
Was  not  my  captain  there,  to  witness  my  doings  ?  And 
were  not  my  comrades  sharers  of  my  danger  ?  And 
then,  if  my  courage  failed  me,  had  I  not  my  pride  and 
vanity  to  spur  me  on,  — without  mentioning  the  inspir- 
ing battle-cry  —  the  smell  of  the  powder  —  the  sound  of 
the  trumpets  — the  roar  of  the  cannon  — with  my  horse 
neighing,  prancing,  and  curveting  under  me,  as  though 
the  devil  stung  him  ?    And,  best  of  all,  did  I  not  know 
the  emperor  himself  was  there,  and  that,  in  return 
tor  having  my  skin  well  riddled  with  bullets,  he  would 
bestow  on  me  a  bit  of  riband  or  a  stripe  of  gold  lace  to 
make  a  plaster?    Ay,  to  be  sure,  I  knew  all  this  well 
enough;  and  so  I  got  the  credit  of  being  a  brave  sort 
of  tellow.    But  you,  my  fine  lad,  who  face  all  manner  of 
dangers  alone  and  unobserved,  are  a  thousand  times 
bolder  and  braver  than  myself,  when  you  go,  unarmed 
and  unseen  by  your  commander,  to  encounter  enemies 
a  hundred  times  more  formidable  and  ferocious  than  any 
we  ever  meet  in  the  open  battle-field,  where  we  fight 
away  in  squadrons,  protected  by  a  shower  of  howitzers 
and  cannon-balls." 

"My  excellent  father,"  repeated  the  young  smith 
how  worthy  of  you  it  is  thus  to  do  justice  to  the 
courage  of  another  !  " 


61 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Ah,  dear  Agricola,"  cried  Gabriel,  "  our  kind 
parent's  indulgent  view  of  my  conduct  makes  him  exag- 
gerate the  little  good  I  have  been  able  to  do,  and  which 
is,  after  all,  so  natural." 

"  Natural !  "  quickly  responded  the  old  soldier.  "Yes, 
for  gallant  fellows  such  as  you  are  it  may  be  natural ; 
but  let  me  tell  you  the  breed  is  a  rare  one  —  seldom 
more  than  one  at  a  time ! " 

"  Rare,  indeed  !  "  added  Agricola ;  "  for  courage  such 
as  my  brother  has  evinced  is  the  most  difficult  sort 
to  meet  with.  What!  with  the  anticipation  of  an  al- 
most certain  death,  you  departed  alone,  naught  in  your 
hand  but  a  crucifix  to  excuse  and  preserve  you,  to 
preach  charity  and  brotherly  love  to  savages ;  who,  in 
return  for  this  act  of  self-devotion,  seize  you,  torture 
you,  and  threaten  you  with  a  lingering  death !  And  all 
this  you  bear  without  one  angry  or  resentful  feeling,  and 
patiently  await  your  end  with  a  smile  and  blessing  for 
your  murderers  on  your  lips!  And  all  this  bodily 
anguish  you  endure  in  the  thick  shade  of  their  pathless 
w00ds  —  alone,  unknown,  unseen  —  with  no  other  hope, 
should  you  even  escape  from  the  hands  of  your  tor- 
mentors, than  to  hide  your  deep  scars  beneath  the 
humble  robe  of  a  priest !  My  father  is  right,  —  seek  not 
to  disown  his  just  praise ;  for  even  I  must  declare  you 
stand  here  as  brave  a  man  as  he  himself ! " 

«  And  besides,"  resumed  Dagobert,  "  the  poor  boy  is 
all  the  while  working  for  <  Jack  Nobody,'  as  one  may 
say ;  for  as  you  observe,  my  son,  his  courage  and  devo- 
tion, with  a  body  scarred  and  seamed  all  over,  will  never 
change  his  black  gown  into  a  bishop's  robe." 

"  Nay,"  said  Gabriel,  with  a  smile  of  angelic  sweet- 
ness, "I  am  not  so  disinterested  as  I  appear ;  should  I 
prove  worthy  of  it,  a  mighty  recompense  awaits  me  on 
high." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  my  dear  boy,  I  won't  pretend  to  talk 
of  matters  I  don't  understand  ;  but  what  I  will  say  is, 

62 


THE  MORNING. 


that  my  old  cross  would  be  as  well  placed  on  your 
cassock  as  on  my  uniform." 

"  But  such  recompenses  are  never  bestowed  on  hum- 
ble priests  like  Gabriel,"  said  the  smith ;  «  and  yet  if 
you  only  knew,  my  dear  father,  what  brave  and  virtuous 
spirits  may  be  found  among  the  portion  of  the  priest- 
Hood  called  insultingly  the  <  lower  clergy,'  what  hidden 
merit  and  devoted  zeal  for  their  fellow  creatures  may  be 
met  Wlth  among  the  obscure  and  humble  cures  of  the 
villages  of  France,  treated  both  harshly  and  unfeelingly 
by  their  bishops,  who  impose  on  them  a  pitiless  yoke, 
from  which  there  is  no  escape !    Yet  these  poor  priests 
are  workmen,  like  ourselves,  whose  emancipation  all 
generous  hearts  should  unite  in  demanding.    Sons  of 
the  people  as  we  are,  they  require  the  same  redress,  the 
same  justice,  we  poor  mechanics  and  artisans  so  loudly 
call  for.    Am  I  not  right,  Gabriel  ?    You  will  not  con- 
tradict me  my  dear  brother,  —  you,  whose  highest  and 

^fr1":8  ear*ly  T\  was  t0  ha™  *»n  appointed 
cure  to  a  little  village  flock,  because,  as  you  justly  ob- 

S'mightd^  S°  W  mUCh  ^  -  -n  so 

fnl'lvM^  t  Sti"1the  Same'"  IePlied  Gabriel>  sorrow- 

er™ f  '  nn*fVlly~  Then,  as  though  seeking  to 
escape  from  painful  thoughts,  and  desirous  of  changing 
the  conversation  he  said  to  Dagobert,  "Let  me  beseech 
you  to  do  yourself  more  justice  than  to  depreciate  your 
own  courage  by  exalting  that  of  another.    Your  cour- 

nfttWf  f  eat-T7  8reat;  f^  to  look  on  a  field  of 
battle  after  the  conflict  is  over,  and  to  behold  the  car- 
nage and  slaughter  of  one's  brethren,  must  be  a  trying 
sight  for  a  generous  heart  like  yours,  my  father.  Heaven 
^praised!  if  we  fall  by  man's  hand,  at  least  we  slay 

Q,  ^    f1 6  missionary  uttered  these  words,  the  soldier 
suddenly  sprang  up,  and  gazed  at  him  with  surprise, 
this  is  most  singular !  "  exclaimed  he 
63 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  What  is  singular,  my  father  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  struck  me  deeply  to  hear  Gabriel  make  that 
last  remark ;  it  was  so  precisely  what  I  used  to  feel  after 
an  action  —  I  mean  as  I  got  older." 

Then,  after  a  short  silence,  Dagobert  added,  in  a  grave 
and  sorrowful  tone,  by  no  means  habitual  to  him  : 

"  Yes,  what  Gabriel  has  just  remarked  exactly  ex- 
presses my  thoughts,  during  active  service,  as  old  age 
crept  on.  Ah,  my  children,  many  a  time,  when  I  have 
been  on  duty  at  the  outposts,  at  the  end  of  a  hard  day's 
fight — alone  —  all  still,  where  such  deep  tumult  had  pre- 
vailed—  and  the  moon  shining  full  on  the  field,  of  which 
we  were  left  masters,  but  which  was  now  strewed  with 
the  bleeding  corpses  of  some  eight  or  nine  thousand 
men,  some  of  them  old  friends  and  comrades  through 
many  a  toilsome  campaign  —  then  such  a  sight !  and 
one's  own  reflections  would  strip  off  all  the  intoxicating 
enjoyment  of  killing  or  being  killed  (for  it  is  a  sort  of 
intoxication  while  its  influence  is  upon  one)  ;  and  I 
used  to  say  to  myself,  4  Here  is  a  field,  covered  with  fel- 
low creatures,  in  the  morning  strong  and  rejoicing  in 
their  strength  —  now  cold,  stiff,  and  insensible  to  all  that 
we  strive,  and  quarrel,  and  contend  for !  Why  have  so 
many  fellow  creatures  thus  been  cut  down  ?  Why  left 
thus,  like  mere  burthens  to  the  blood-stained  grass  they 
lie  on  ?  Why,  oh,  why  ? '  But  these  reflections  did  not 
hinder  me  from  setting  to  again  just  the  same  when  the 
morning  charge  sounded ;  and  there  I  was  again,  cutting 
and  slashing  as  fiercely  as  ever !  But  when,  with  weary 
arm,  I  wiped  my  bloody  sword  upon  my  horse's  mane,  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  action,  I  still  found  myself  repeat- 
ing, '  Why,  why  has  my  hand  taken  the  lives  of  so 
many  fellow  creatures  who  never  offended  me  ?'  " 

The  missionary  and  the  smith  regarded  each  other 
with  looks  of  astonishment  as  they  heard  the  old  man 
give  utterance  to  this  singular  retrospect  of  his  past  life. 

"  Alas ! "  replied  Gabriel,  "  'twill  be  ever  thus  with 

64 


THE  MORNING. 


generous  hearts  at  the  solemn  time  and  place  you  have 
been  describing!  Then  the  false  enthusiasm  of  glory 
disappears,  and  man  is  left  alone  with  the  noble  instincts 
his  Creator  infused  into  his  soul  when  he  breathed  into 
his  nostrils  the  breath  of  life." 

"  Which  proves  most  clearly,  my  dear  child,  that  your 
nature  is  superior  to  mine ;  for  these  noble  instincts,  as 
you  call  them,  have  never  abandoned  you.  But  how 
did  you  manage  to  escape  from  the  claws  of  the  enraged 
barbarians,  after  they  had  crucified  you  ?  " 

At  this  inquiry  from  Dagobert,  Gabriel  started ;  and 
so  visible  an  embarrassment  came  over  him  that  the 
soldier  continued : 

"  Nay,  my  boy,  if  my  question  be  one  you  either  can- 
not or  ought  not  to  answer,  forget  that  it  was  ever 
spoken." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  conceal,  either  from  you  or  my 
brother,"^  replied  the  missionary,  in  an  agitated  tone.  "  I 
only  hesitated  from  the  fear  of  being  unable  to  make 
that  intelligible  to  you  which,  in  fact,  I  have  not  been 
able  to  understand  myself." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired  Agricola,  with  aston- 
ishment. 

"  Doubtless,"  answered  Gabriel,  colouring  deeply,  "  it 
must  have  been  some  delusion  of  my  senses.  During 
the  awful  moments  in  which  I  waited  death  (I  trust, 
with  resignation),  my  mind,  exhausted  and  weakened, 
must  have  been  the  dupe  of  some  appearance,  which, 
though  unaccounted  for  up  to  the  present  instant,  will 
one  day  explain  itself  from  natural  causes.  Had  I  any 
tangible  clue  to  assist  me,  I  should  have  endeavoured  to 
discover  who  this  female  was." 

^  Dagobert,  who  listened  most  attentively  to  the  mis- 
sionary, was  completely  amazed ;  for  he  also  had  vainly 
sought  how  to  account  for  the  unexpected  succour  which 
had  enabled  him  and  the  orphans  to  escape  from  the 
prison  at  Leipsic. 

65 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Of  what  woman  do  you  speak  ?  "  asked  the  smith  of 
the  missionary. 

Of  her  who  saved  me." 

"  Was  it  a  woman  who  saved  you  from  the  hands  of 
the  savages?"  inquired  Dagobert. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Gabriel,  deeply  buried  in  his  recollec- 
tions, "  a  woman,  young  and  handsome." 

"  And  who  was  she  ?  "  asked  Agricola. 

"  I  do  not  know.  When  I  asked  her  she  answered, 
4 1  am  the  sister  of  the  afflicted ! '  "  . 

"  Whence  did  she  come  ?  Where  was  she  going  to  ?  " 
said  Dagobert,  singularly  interested. 

"  <  I  am  going  where  they  suffer ! '  was  her  reply," 
answered  the  missionary  ;  "  and  she  went  on  her  way 
towards  the  north  of  America,  those  desolate  regions 
where  there  is  eternal  snow  and  endless  night," 

"  Like  Siberia,"  said  Dagobert,  pensively. 

"  But,"  resumed  Agricola,  addressing  Gabriel,  who 
seemed  to  become  more  and  more  thoughtful,  "  in  what 
way  did  this  woman  come  to  your  succour  ?  " 

The  missionary  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  blow, 
cautiously  struck  on  the  door  of  the  chamber,  renewed 
the  alarm  which  Agricola  had  forgotten  since  the  arrival 
of  his  adopted  brother. 

"  Agricola,"  said  a  gentle  voice  outside  the  door,  "  I 
wish  to  speak  to  you  for  an  instant." 

The  smith  recognised  the  voice  of  La  Mayeux,  and 
opened  the  door.  The  young  girl,  instead  of  entering, 
retired  into  the  dark  passage,  and  said  in  a  disturbed 
voice : 

"  Oh,  Agricola,  it  has  been  broad  daylight  for  the  last 
hour,  and  you  are  still  here  —  what  imprudence !  I 
have  been  watching  below  in  the  street,  and  up  to  this 
time  have  seen  nothing  which  has  given  me  any  cause 
of  alarm ;  but  they  may  come  and  apprehend  you  at  any 
moment,  and  I  entreat  you  to  make  haste  and  go  to 
Mile,  de  Cardoville ;  you  have  not  a  moment  to  lose." 

66 


THE  MORNING. 


"If  Gabriel  had  not  come  I  should  have  gone;  but 
withMm ?  "r<!  happiness  of  stayin«  a  few  miiutes 

"Gabriel  here!"  said  La  Mayeux,  with  agreeable 
surprise,  for  we  have  already  said  that  she  had  been 
brought  up  with  him  and  Agricola. 

"Yes,"  replied  Agricola;  "for  the  last  half  hour  he 
has  been  here  with  me  and  my  father." 

"  How  delighted  I  shall  be  to  see  him  again ! "  said 
La  Mayeux.  «  He  must  have  come  in  whilst  I  went  to 
your  mother  for  a  moment,  to  ask  if  I  could  be  of  any 
use  to  her  m  getting  anything  for  the  young  ladies  ;  but 
they  were  so  tired  that  they  are  still  asleep.  Madame 
i  rancoise  begged  me  to  give  you  this  letter  for  your 
lather,  which  she  has  just  received." 

"  Thanks,  good  Mayeux." 

«  Now  you  have  seen  Gabriel,  do  not  delay  any  longer ; 
only  think  what  your  father  would  suffer  if  you  were 
arrested  in  his  presence." 

«  You  are  right,  and  I  must  go.  I  had  forgotten  all 
my  alarms  with  him  and  Gabriel." 

"Go  as  quickly  as  you  can,  and  perhaps  in  a  couple 
of  hours,  ,f  Mile,  de  Cardoville  does  you  this  great  ser- 

Ind'friendT"7  ^  M*  t0  retUm  ^  Safelj  f°r  y°urself 
"  True,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  I  will  go  " 
"I  will  return  and  watch  at  the  door; 'if  I  see  any- 
thing 1  will  come  up-stairs  as  quickly  as  possible  to  tell 
you.    But  pray  do  not  delay." 
"  Make  yourself  easy." 

La  Mayeux  descended  the  staircase  rapidly  to  go  and 
watch  at  the  street  door,  and  Agricola  went  back  to  the 

«  Father,"  said  he  to  Dagobert,  «  here  is  a  letter  which 
my  mother  has  just  received  and  begs  you  to  read." 

follows     read  'lt  f°r        mj  b°y'"    ASricola  read  as 

67 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Madame :  —  I  learn  that  your  husband  is  entrusted 
by  M.  General  Simon  with  an  affair  of  great  importance. 
Will  you  be  so  kind,  as  soon  as  your  husband  arrives  in 
Paris,  as  to  beg  him  to  come  to  my  office  at  Chartres 
without  the  least  delay.  I  am  desired  to  hand  to  him- 
self, and  no  one  else,  some  papers  indispensably  necessary 
to  the  interest  of  M.  General  Simon. 

"  Due  and,  Notary  at  Chartres" 

Dagobert  looked  at  his  son  with  an  air  of  astonish- 
ment, and  said  to  him  : 

"Who  could  have  told  this  gentleman  that  I  was 
expected  in  Paris  ? " 

"Perhaps  the  notary  whose  address  you  have  lost, 
and  to  whom  you  sent  the  papers,  father,"  said  Agricola. 

«  But  his  name  was  not  Durand,  and  I  well  remember 
he  was  a  notary  at  Paris  and  not  at  Chartres.  But 
then,"  added  the  soldier,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  if 
he  has  papers  of  great  importance  which  he  must  only 
hand  to  me  —  " 

"  Why,  you  cannot,  I  think,  do  otherwise  than  go  as 
soon  as  possible,"  said  Agricola,  almost  rejoiced  at  a 
circumstance  which  would  take  his  father  away  for 
nearly  two  days,  during  which  his  (Agricola's)  fate 
would  be  decided  one  way  or  the  other. 

"  Your  advice  is  good,"  said  Dagobert  to  him. 
"  Does  it  come  across  your  plans  ?"  inquired  Gabriel. 
"  A  little,  my  dear  boy,  for  I  relied  on  passing  the 
day  with  you;  but  duty  first,  pleasure  afterwards.  I 
have  come  safely  from  Siberia  to  Paris,  so  I  need  not 
have  much  fear  in  going  from  Paris  to  Chartres  when  it 
concerns  a  matter  so  important.  In  twice  twenty-tour 
hours  I  shall  be  back  again.  However,  it  is  very  singu- 
lar ;  devil  fetch  me  if  I  thought  of  leaving  you  to-day 
to  go  to  Chartres  !  Fortunately  I  leave  Pose  and  Blanche 
with  my  good  wife,  and  their  angel  Gabriel,  as  they  call 
him,  will  come  and  keep  them  company." 

68 


THE  MORNING. 


"Unfortunately  that  will  be  impossible,"  said  the 
missionary,  in  a  sad  tone;  "this  visit,  on  my  return 
to  my  good  mother  and  Agricola,  is  also  a  visit  of 
farewell." 

"  What !  of  farewell  ? "  said  Dagobert  and  Agricola 
at  the  same  time. 
"  Alas,  yes !  " 

"  Going  again  on  another  mission  ? "  said  Dagobert. 
"  That  is  impossible  !  " 

"  I  cannot  answer  you  on  that  point,"  said  Gabriel, 
stifling  a  sigh ;  "  but  for  some  time  to  come  I  cannot, 
ought  not,  to  visit  this  house." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  replied  the  old  soldier,  with  emotion, 
"  there  is  in  your  manner  something  that  bespeaks  con- 
straint, oppression.  I  know  men,  and  he  whom  you  call 
your  superior,  and  whom  I  saw  for  a  few  moments  after 
the  shipwreck  at  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville,  has  a  bad 
countenance  ;  and  oh,  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  enlisted 
under  the  banner  of  such  a  captain." 

"At  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville!"  said  the  smith, 
struck  with  the  resemblance  of  the  name.  "  Was  it  at 
the  Chateau  de  Cardoville  that  you  were  received  after 
your  shipwreck  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  boy  ;  does  that  surprise  you  ?  " 
"  Not  at  all,  father !  And  do  the  owners  of  the  chateau 
reside  there  ? " 

"  No  ;  for  the  steward,  whom  I  asked,  that  I  might 
thank  them  for  the  kind  hospitality  which  we  had  re- 
ceived, told  me  that  the  person  to  whom  it  belonged 
lived  in  Paris." 

"  What  a  singular  coincidence,"  said  Agricola  to  him- 
self, "  if  this  young  lady  should  be  the  owner  of  the 
chateau  which  bears  her  name  !  " 

This  reflection  reminding  him  of  his  promise  to  La 
Mayeux,  he  said  to  Dagobert : 

"  Father,  excuse  me,  but  it  is  getting  late,  and  I  must 
be  at  the  workshop  at  eight  o'clock." 

69 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Well,  then,  my  son,  pray  go.  Our  party  is  delayed 
till  my  return  from  Chartres.  Embrace  me  once  more, 
and  then  be  off  as  quick  as  you  can." 

From  the  moment  when  Dagobert  had  spoken  to 
Gabriel  of  "  constraint  and  oppression,"  he  had  remained 
lost  in  thought;  and  at  the  moment  when  Agricola 
came  to  him  to  shake  his  hand,  and  say  adieu,  the  mis- 
sionary said  to  him,  in  a  grave,  solemn  tone,  and  an 
air  of  resolution,  which  surprised  the  smith  and  the 
soldier : 

"  My  good  brother,  one  other  word :  I  came  also  to 
say  that  some  days  hence  I  shall  have  need  of  you ;  and 
you,  also,  my  father,  if  I  may  call  you  so,"  added  Gabriel, 
in  an  affectionate  voice,  turning  towards  Dagobert. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  is  it,  then  ? "  exclaimed 
the  smith. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Gabriel,  "  I  shall  have  need  of  the 
counsel  and  the  aid  of  two  men  of  honour,  two  men  of 
resolution  ;  I  may  rely  on  you  two,  may  I  not  ?  At  any 
hour,  at  any  day,  at  any  time,  on  a  word  from  me,  you 
will  come  ? " 

Dagobert  and  his  son  looked  at  Gabriel  in  silence, 
so  greatly  had  his  accent  surprised  them.  Agricola 
felt  his  heart  throb,  —  if  he  were  a  prisoner  at  the 
moment  when  his  brother  required  him,  what  could  he 
do  ? 

"  At  any  and  every  hour  of  the  day  and  night,  my 
dear  fellow,  you  may  rely  on  us,"  said  Dagobert,  as  much 
surprised  as  interested.  "  You  have  a  father  and  a 
brother  —  make  use  of  them  !  " 

"  Thanks,  thanks,"  said  Gabriel ;  "  you  make  me  very 
happy." 

"Do  you  know  one  thing  ?  "  added  the  soldier.  "  If 
it  were  not  for  the  robe  you  wear,  I  should  think  there 
was  a  duel  in  the  wind,  by  the  way  you  ask  us." 

"  A  duel !  "  said  the  missionary,  starting.  "  Yes, 
there  may  be,  perhaps,  a  strange,  a  terrible  duel,  at  which 

70 


THE  MORNING. 

I  £!:TK  tW°  SUCh  SeC°nds  as  *»>  -  *  father  and 
A  few  moments  afterwards,  Agricola,  who  had  hv  thi. 
reader      Urdovllle>  whltl*r  we  will  also  conduct  the 


71 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT  -  DIZIER.  —  THE  PAVILION, 

The  H6tel  de  Saint-Dizier  was  one  of  the  most  exten- 
sive and  elegant  mansions  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  at 
IParis 

Nothing  could  be  more  formal,  more  striking,  and 
more  dull  than  the  sight  of  this  ancient  abode.  Im- 
mense window-frames,  with  small  panes  of  glass,  and 
painted  a  grayish  white,  made  the  large  blocks  of  hewn 
stone  of  which  it  was  built,  blackened  as  they  were  by 
the  sun,  more  sombre  still.  < 

This  abode  was  similar  to  all  those  built  in  the  same 
quarter,  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  It  was  a 
large  full-fronted  building,  with  a  triangular  pediment 
and  a  sloping  roof  raised  from  a  first  floor,  and  a  ground 
floor,  by  which  you  ascended  by  a  flight  of  steps.  One 
of  the  facades  faced  a  large  courtyard,  bounded  on 
each  side  by  arcades  communicating  with  extensive  out- 
buildings;  another  facade  looked  upon  the  garden,  which 
was  actually  a  park  of  twelve  or  fifteen  acres,  and  on 
this  side  two  semicircular  wings,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
main  centre,  formed  two  galleries. 

As  in  nearly  all  the  large  houses  in  this  quarter,  so 
was  there  here,  at  the  extremity  of  the  garden,  what 
they  called  the  little  h6tel,  or  small  house.  _ 

It  was  a  pavilion  a  la  Pompadour,  circular,  and  m  the 
charming  bad  taste  of  the  period,  presenting  m  every 
part,  where  the  stone  had  been  prodigally  employed,  an 
immense   quantity  of   leaves,  love-knots,  wreaths  ot 

72 


THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT  -  DIZIER. 


flowers,  flying  cupids,  etc.  This  pavilion,  in  which 
Adrienne  de  Cardoville  lived,  consisted  of  a  ground 
floor,  to  which  access  was  given  by  a  peristyle,  elevated 
by  several  steps ;  a  small  vestibule  leading  to  a  circular 
salon,  lighted  from  above.  Four  other  apartments  led 
from  this,  and  several  rooms  above,  which  were  con- 
cealed in  the  higher  story,  were  reached  by  a  private 
staircase. 

These  outbuildings  to  large  mansions  are  in  our  days 
unoccupied,  or  converted  into  orangeries ;  but,  by  a  rare 
exception,  the  pavilion  of  the  Hotel  de  Saint-Dizier  had 
been  cleared  and  restored,  and  its  white  stone  shone 
like  Paros  marble,  and  its  lively  and  renewed  appearance 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  dull  and  sombre  building, 
which  was  seen  from  the  extremity  of  a  large  band  of 
sward,  planted  in  various  patches  with  clumps  of  gi- 
gantic trees. 

The  following  scene  passed  here  the  morning  after 
that  on  which  Dagobert  had  arrived  at  the  Rue  Brise- 
Miche  with  General  Simon's  daughters. 

The  clock  of  the  neighbouring  church  struck  eight, 
and  the  bright,  early  sun  of  winter  shone  brilliantly  in 
the  pure  blue  sky  behind  the  large  and  full-leaved  trees, 
which  formed  a  dome  of  verdure  above  the  little  pavilion 
of  Louis  XV. 

The  door  of  the  vestibule  opened,  and  the  sun's  rays 
fell  on  a  charming  creature,  or  rather  two  charming 
creatures,  for  one  of  them,  although  occupying  a  lower 
step  in  the  ladder  of  creation,  was  not  the  less  remark- 
able for  her  extreme  beauty. 

In  other  words,  a  young  girl  and  a  splendid  little  dog 
of  King  Charles's  breed  appeared  under  the  peristyle  of 
the  little  h6tel. 

The  girl's  name  was  Georgette,  that  of  the  little  dog, 
Lutine.  ^  Georgette  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  never 
did  Florine  or  Marton,  never  did  a  soubrette  of  Mari- 
vaux,  present  a  more  arch  countenance,  an  eye  more 

73 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


sparkling,  a  smile  more  attractive,  teeth  more  white, 
cheeks  more  rosy,  a  form  more  slender,  foot  better 
formed,  or  figure  more  attractive. 

Although  it  was  very  early,  Georgette  was  dressed 
with  care  and  nicety.  A  small  cap  of  Valenciennes 
lace,  with  side-pieces  coming  over  the  ears,  something 
after  the  fashion  of  the  peasant  girls,  trimmed  with 
pink  ribands,  and  placed  coquettishly  at  the  back  of  her 
head,  displayed  beautiful  bandeaux  of  light  chestnut 
hair,  which  encircled  her  fresh  and  pretty  face.  A 
gown  of  gray  levantine,  with  a  small  lawn  handkerchief 
fastened  around  her  waist  by  a  large  bow  of  pink  satin, 
set  off  to  advantage  her  round  but  thin  waist,  whilst  an 
apron  of  snow-white  holland,  trimmed  around  the  bottom 
with  three  large  hems,  between  which  was  open  work, 
added  another  attraction  to  her  graceful  shape.  Her 
sleeves,  short  and  broad,  were  edged  with  a  quilling  of 
lace,  displaying  to  advantage  her  plump,  firm,  and  white 
arms,  which  her  long  gloves  of  peau  de  Suede,  that 
reached  to  her  elbows,  defended  from  the  severity  of  the 
weather.  When  Georgette  lifted  up  her  gown  to  de- 
scend the  steps  more  quickly,  she  displayed  to  the 
regardless  eyes  of  nature  the  lower  part  of  a  well-formed 
leg  in  a  white  silk  stocking,  and  a  beautiful  little  foot  in 
a  slipper  of  black  satin  turc. 

When  a  blonde,  like  Georgette,  has  also  a  piquant 
expression  ;  when  her  blue  eyes  sparkle  with  gaiety  and 
innocence  ;  when  a  joyous  liveliness  brightens  her  trans- 
parent skin,  she  has  yet  more  freshness,  more  attraction, 
than  a  brunette. 

This  complaisant  and  pleasant-mannered  soubrette, 
who  had  on  the  previous  evening  introduced  Agricola 
into  the  pavilion,  was  first  femme  de  chambre  of  Mile. 
Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  niece  of  Madame  the  Princesse 
de  Saint-Dizier. 

Lutine,  so  luckily  found  by  the  smith,  barked  joyfully, 
and  bounded,  ran,  and  sported  on  the  turf.    She  was 

74 


THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT  -  DIZIER. 

little  larger  than  a  good  sized  fist;  her  glossy  hide  of 
bright  black  shone  like  polished  ebony,  under  the  lame 
red  satm  riband  which  was  around  her  neck  ;  her left' 
with  longer  silky  fringe,  were  of  a  deep  red,  as  was  her 
muzzle  which  was  singularly  flat ;  her  large  eye!  shone 

£  tht  :8&T\  T,hilSt  h6r  f6athered  ears'were  so  w 
tnat  they  touched  the  ground.  g 

Georgette  seemed  as  active  and  as  full  of  mirth  as 
Lutme  whose  sport  she  encouraged,  by  runniZ  after 
her  and  then  from  her  on  the  greensward.  ° 

At  the  sight  of  a  second  person,  who  advanced  se 
dately  towards  them,  Lutine  and  Georgette  stooped  sud 
denly  in  the  midst  of  their  mirth.    The  T£ 

Sn^t^V^6  a  f-^-as  bold  a  f 
lion,  and  faithful  to  his  name,  stood  firmly  on  her  strong 
Me  paws,  and  boldly  awaited  the  enemy,  showLf  Z 
rows  of  small,  sharp  teeth,  white  as  ivory  g 

The  enemy  consisted  of  a  woman  of  mature  years 
accompanied  by  a  fat  dog  of  the  omr  hrepTnf  !  7  a  ' 
colour,  and  his  tail  curling  like  a  "coLtew',  fndVuht 
arge  paunch,  bright  skin,  and  his  neck  ra  her  on  one 

2  of  LIS  d  Wlth  MS  kgS  Very  Wide  aPa^  with  an 
air  of  great  seriousness  and  importance.  His  black 
muzzle,  his  morose  and  suspicions  look,  and  two  tusks 
sticking  on  on  each  side  of  his  mouth  which  kept  Ws 
lips  from  closing,  gave  to  the  animal  an  expression  of 
singular  repUgnance  and  crabbedness.     Tlflt  disagree 

oevotee  s  dog    answered  to  the  name  of  Monsieur 

asf  T^Z,  miStreSS  Was  a  female  about  fifty  years  of 
age,  of  middling  height,  and  stout,  attired  in  I  dress  as 

of  bfack  sflk  and  t  H  ^T" L  g°Wn'  °f  a  «let 


THE  WANDERING  JEW- 


formal  and  austere  look  which  she  endeavoured  to 
assume. 

This  demure  matron,  with  the  slow  and  measured 
step,  was  Madame  Augustine  Grivois,  first  femme  of 
Madame  the  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier. 

Not  only  did  the  ages,  countenances,  and  dress  of  these 
two  females  offer  so  complete  a  contrast,  but  the  differ- 
ence extended  equally  to  the  animals  that  accompanied 
them.  There  was  as  much  variety  between  Lutine  and 
Monsieur  as  between  Georgette  and  Madame  Grivois. 
When  the  latter  saw  the  little  King  Charles,  she  could 
not  restrain  a  movement  of  surprise  and  annoyance, 
which  was  not  lost  on  Georgette. 

Lutine,  who  had  not  retreated  an  inch  since  Monsieur 
had  appeared,  looked  at  him  courageously,  and  with  an 
air  of  defiance,  and  then  advanced  towards  him  with 
an  air  so  decidedly  hostile  that  the  pug,  though  three 
times  as  big  as  the  small  King  Charles's  breed,  uttered 
a  cry  of  distress,  and  then  took  hasty  refuge  behind 
Madame  Grivois,  who  said  to  Georgette,  in  a  sharp 
voice  i 

«  It  seems  to  me,  ma'amselle,  that  you  need  not  set 
your  dog  on  to  fight  with  mine." 

«  No  doubt  it  was  to  shelter  your  respectable  and  ugly 
animal  from  these  rencounters  that  you  yesterday  endeav- 
oured to  lose  Lutine,  by  driving  her  into  the  street  by 
the  little  garden  gate.  Fortunately,  however,  a  worthy 
and  honest  voung  man  found  Lutine  m  the  Rue  de 
Babylone,  and  brought  her  back  to  my  mistress.  But 
may  I  inquire,  madame,  how  it  is  that  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  vou  out  so  early  this  morning  ?  " 

"I  am  desired  bv  the  princess,"  replied  Madame 
Grivois,  unable  to  conceal  a  smile  of  triumphant  satis- 
faction, « to  see  Mile.  Adrienne  this  very  moment,  as 
I  have  a  most  important  matter  to  communicate  to 

heAt  these  words  Georgette  turned  exceedingly  red,  and 

76 


THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT  -  DIZIER. 


could  not  repress  a  slight  appearance  of  uneasiness, 
which,  however,  fortunately  escaped  Madame  Grivois, 
who  was  watching  over  Monsieur's  safety,  to  whom 
Lutine  was  drawing  nigher,  with  a  very  threatening 
aspect.  Georgette,  having  subdued  this  momentary 
emotion,  replied  boldly: 

"  Mademoiselle  went  to  bed  very  late,  and  desired  that 
I  would  not  disturb  her  before  noon." 

"That  may  be  so;  but,  as  I  am  only  obeying  the 
orders  of  the  princess,  her  aunt,  I  must  trouble  you,  if 
you  please,  ma'amselle,  to  wake  your  lady  this  instant." 

"  My  lady  takes  orders  from  no  one ;  she  is  here  in 
her  own  house,  and  therefore  I  shall  not  waken  her 
until  twelve  o'clock,  according  to  her  orders." 

"  Then  I  will  go  myself." 

"  Florine  and  Hebe  will  not  open  the  door  to  you.  I 
have  the  key  of  the  salon,  and  it  is  only  through  the 
salon  that  you  can  obtain  access  to  mademoiselle." 

"  What !  will  you  dare  to  refuse  to  allow  me  to  execute 
the  princess's  orders  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  dare  commit  the  heinous  crime  of  not  allowing 
my  lady  to  be  aroused." 

"Yes,  truly,  this  is  one  of  the  results  of  the  blind 
goodness  of  the  princess  to  her  niece  !  "  said  the  matron, 
with  an  air  of  regret.  "Mile.  Adrienne  no  longer  re- 
spects her  aunt's  commands,  but  surrounds  herself  with 
young  wantons,  who,  from  the  moment  they  rise,  are 
dressed  up  like  ornamented  shrines." 

"  Ah,  madame,  how  can  you  find  fault  with  costume, 
you  who  formerly  were  so  remarkable  for  your  style,  — 
the  most  coquettish  of  all  the  princess's  ladies?  And 
that  system  goes  on  from  generation  to  generation  until 
the  present  day." 

_  "  What  do  you  mean  by  <  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion V  Would  you  imply  that  I  have  lived  for  a  century  ? 
You  become  impertinent,  ma'amselle." 

"I  was  alluding  to  the  generation  of  femmes  de 

77 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


chambre;  for,  except  yourself,  no  one  stays  more  than 
two  or  three  years  with  the  princess,  —  she  has  too  many 
odd  ways  for  the  poor  girls  —  " 

"I  beg,  ma'amselle,  that  you  will  not  speak  thus  of 
the  princess.  Her  name  ought  only  to  be  mentioned  on 
bended  knees." 

"  Yet,  if  one  would  say  a  little  bit  of  scandal  —  " 

"Dare  you?" 

"Not  later  than  last  evening,  at  half  past  eleven 
o'clock  —  " 

"  Last  evening  !  " 

"  A  hackney-coach  stopped  a  few  yards  from  our 
hotel ;  a  mysterious  personage,  wrapped  in  a  mantle, 
alighted,  and  tapped  very  carefully,  not  at  the  door, 
but  on  the  glass  of  the  porter's  window :  at  one  o'clock 
this  morning  the  hackney-coach  was  still  there  in  the 
street,  awaiting  the  mysterious  personage  in  the  cloak, 
who,  during  this  time,  was  no  doubt  pronouncing  the 
name  of  the  princess  on  his  bended  knees." 

Whether  Madame  Grivois  was  really  not  aware  of  the 
visit  made  to  Madame  Saint-Dizier  by*Rodin  (for  it  was 
he)  on  the  previous  night,  after  he  had  learnt  the  arrival 
of  General  Simon's  daughters  in  Paris,  or  whether  con- 
cealment of  the  fact  was  her  policy,  she  replied,  with  a 
disdainful  shrug  of  the  shoulders  : 

"I  really  do  not  know  what  you  mean,  ma'amselle; 
and  I  did  not  come  here  to  listen  to  your  impertinences. 
But  again  I  ask,  will  you,  or  will  you  not,  conduct  me  to 
Mile.  Adrienne  ? " 

"  I  repeat  that  my  lady  is  asleep,  and  has  given  me 
orders  not  to  disturb  her  before  noon." 

This  conversation  had  taken  place  at  some  distance 
from  the  pavilion,  the  peristyle  of  which  was  visible  at 
the  end  of  a  long  avenue  which  ended  in  a  quincunx. 

Suddenly  Madame  Grivois  exclaimed,  stretching  out 
her  hands  in  that  direction : 

"  Ah,  is  it  possible  ?    What  have  I  seen  ? " 

78 


THE  HOTEL  HE  SAINT  -  DIZIER. 

toCaXer^  ^  J0U  S6e?"  Said  Ge°^tte'  ^ning 

am;~thaVe  1  SeeU?"  Madame  G™,  in 

"  Yes,  what  ? " 
"  Mile.  Adrienne ! " 
"  And  where  ?  " 

"  Why  going  very  rapidly  up  the  steps.    I  knew  her 
directly  by  her  figure,  her  bonnet,  her  cloak-  Come 

Grivo  sg  i°ll°Ck  m  tht  m°^ng!"  6Xclaimed  Mime 
t  Z  i     1  Can  scarceIy  credit  my  eyesight  » 
"  Mademoiselle  ?  You  saw  mademoiselle  ? »  and  Geor- 

2  Sni°  laugh  violently-  "  Ah> 1  «nder«S ;  e;0; 

want  to  find  your  revenge  for  my  true  story  about  the 
aSri"0^  °f       *    We»>  ^  cW°of you! 
"I  repeat,  that  at  this  very  moment  I  saw  her  " 
Come  come,  Madame  Grivois,  if  you  speak  serionslv 
you  must  have  lost  your  senses  —  "  seriously, 

goo^hTnfiiZsrses\ehI because  m^  *y™sht »  too 

good  t  the  little  door  which  opens  from  the  street  leads 

hX  \\£T°UT  Uear  *he  Pavili°n'  a"d  ^  doubt  it  i 
IffiS  ^  mademoiselle  has  entered.  Oh,  how  it  will 
affect  the  prmcess  when  I  tell  her!  But  her  present 
ments  did  not  deceive  her.  Only  see  to  wha  an  extent 
her  weakness  for  the  caprices  of  her  niece  have  "ed  1  r  » 
J  Zr^0^  faIly  monstrous !  And  although  I  saw 
it  with  my  eyes,  I  can  hardly  credit  it." 

It  that  is  the  case,  madame,  I  will  now  conduct  vou 
to  my  iady,  that  you        bg  «  you 

deceived  by  your  vision."  n 

deeper  me  "T^'  my  dear'  but  n°t  too 

vZ f        °U  offer  t0  let  me  in  now  — of  course 

^te^  you  w  that  1 

"  But,  madame,  I  assure  you  —  " 
"  All  I  can  say,  ma'amselle,  is  that  neither  you,  nor 

79 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Florine,  nor  Hebe,  shall  remain  here  twenty-four  hours 
longer.  The  princess  must  put  a  stop  to  such  scanda- 
lous behaviour,  and  I  will  go  this  moment  and  tell  her 
all  about  it.  Go  out  at  night !  Return  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning !  I  am  really  quite  upset  at  the  very 
idea;  and  if  I  had  not  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes  I 
could  not  have  believed  it.  After  all,  this  might  have 
been  expected  to  happen,  and  no  one  need  to  be  aston- 
ished. I  am  sure  that  everybody  to  whom  I  may  relate 
this  horrid  story  will  say,  <  Oh,  I'm  not  surprised  at  all ! 
Oh,  what  pain  this  will  give  the  worthy  princess! 
What  a  blow  it  will  be  for  her  ! ' "  And  Madame  Gri- 
vois  returned  with  great  haste  to  the  h6tel,  followed  by 
Monsieur,  who  appeared  as  indignant  as  his  mistress.  ^ 

Georgette  ran  lightly  and  nimbly  towards  the  pavilion, 
in  order  to  warn  Mile.  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  that 
Madame  Grivois  had  seen  her,  or  thought  she  had  seen 
her,  enter  secretly  by  the  little  garden  gate. 


80 


CHAPTER  VI. 

adhienne's  toilet. 


About  an  hour  had  passed  since  Madame  Grivois  had 
seen,  or  thought  she  saw,  Mile.  Adrienne  de  Cardoville 
enter  the  pavihon  of  the  Chateau  de  Saint-Dizier  at  so 
early  an  hour. 

To  explain  and  not  apologise  for  the  eccentricity  of 
the  following  descriptions,  we  must  throw  some  light  on 
the  peculiar  characteristics  which  marked  the  disposi- 
tion of  Mile,  de  Cardoville.  F 

This  originality  consisted  in  an  extreme  independence 
ot  spirit,  joined  to  an  innate  aversion  from  everything;  that 
was  ugly  or  repulsive,  and  a  surpassing  desire  to  sur- 
round herse  f  with  all  that  was  beautiful  and  attractive. 

ihe  painter  the  most  devoted  to  colouring,  the  sculp- 
tor the  most  devoted  to  contour,  do  not  feel  more 
deeply  than  Adrienne  the  enthusiasm  which  the  sight  of 
perfect  beauty  always  inspires  in  fine  minds 

And  it  was  not  only  the  pleasures  of  the  sight  that 
to >  young  lady  dehghted  to  gratify;  the  harmonious 
modulations  of  singing,  the  melody  of  instruments,  the 
cadence  of  poetry,  gave  her  extreme  pleasure  ;  whilst  a 
harsh  voice,  a  discordant  noise,  made  her  experience  the 
same  pamM  and  almost  grievous  impression  which  she 
involuntarily  experienced  at  the  sight  of  a  hideous  spec- 
tacle. _  Loving  flowers  and  perfumes  even  to  passion, 
she  enjoyed  sweet  odours  as  she  did  sweet  music,  as  she 
did  the  sublime  and  beautiful.  Must  we  also  confess  an 
enormity  ?    Then  Adrienne  was  dainty,  and  appreciated 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

most  fully  the  pulpy  freshness  of  fine  fruit,  the  delicate 
flavour  of  a  pheasant  cooked  to  a  turn,  and  the  delicious 
bouquet  of  generous  wine. 

But  Adrienne  enjoyed  all  this  with  exquisite  reserve, 
and  it  was  a  part  of  her  faith  to  cultivate,  with  the 
utmost  refinement,  the  senses  with  which  the  Creator 
had  endowed  her ;  and  she  would  have  considered  it  the 
height  of  ingratitude  to  have  carried  these  tastes  to 
excess,  or  to  have  debased  them  by  unworthy  application 
of  their  enjoyment,  from  which  abuse  she  was  also  pre- 
served by  the  strict  and  perfect  delicacy  of  her  taste. 

The  handsome  and  ugly  with  her  were  but  other 
words  for  the  good  and  ill. 

Her  worship  of  grace,  elegance,  and  physical  beauty 
had  led  her  to  the  worship  of  moral  beauty ;  for  if  the 
expression  of  a  base  and  low  passion  makes  the  loveliest 
countenance  ugly,  so  the  plainest  faces  are  ennobled  by 
the  expression  of  generous  feelings.  In  a  word,  Adrienne 
was  the  most  complete  personification,  the  beau  ideal, 
of  sensuality ;  not  that  common  sensuality  so  unin- 
formed, unintelligent,  ill-directed,  and  always  false,  cor- 
rupted by  habit  or  the  necessity  of  indulging  in  gross 
delights,  in  which  refinement  is  utterly  lost  sight  of, 
but  of  that  exquisite  sensuality  which  is  to  the  senses 
what  poignancy  is  to  wit. 

The  independence  of  this  young  lady's  mind  was  ex- 
cessive ;  and  certain  humiliations  imposed  on  her  sex 
by  her  social  position  had  revolted  her  past  description, 
and  she  had  boldly  resolved  to  cast  off  the  oppression 
of  their  yoke. 

Let  us  say  distinctly,  there  was  nothing  masculine  in 
Adrienne's  character ;  she  was  a  woman  the  most  fem- 
inine that  can  be  imagined ;  a  woman  in  her  graces,  her 
whims,  her  charms,  her  dazzling  and  womanly  beauty ; 
a  woman  in  her  timidity  as  by  her  audacity  ;  a  woman 
in  her  hate  of  the  brutal  despotism  of  men  as  well  as  by 
the  disinclination  to  link  herself  blindly,  utterly,  to  some 

82 


ADRIENNB'S  TOILET. 

one  who  should  deserve  such  devotion  ;  a  woman,  too,  in 
her  sparkling  and  somewhat  paradoxical  spirit;  a  supe- 
rior woman,  in  fact  because  of  her  contempt,  so  just  and 
lull  of  mockery,  for  certain  men  greatly  elevated  in 
society  or  grossly  flattered,  whom  she  had  met  in  the 
salons  of  her  aunt,  the  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier,  when 
sne  lived  with  her. 

These  necessary  explanations  given,  we  will  introduce 
her  bath6"     Adnenne  de  Cardoville,  who  had  just  left 

We  lack  the  brilliant  colours  of  the  Venetian  school 
to  display  this  charming  scene,  which  seemed  to  belona- 
rather  to  the  sixteenth  century,  in  some  palaces  of 
Bologna  or  Florence,  than  to  Paris,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
faubourg  St.  Germain,  in  the  month  of  February,  1832 

The  dressing-closet  of  Adrienne  was  a  sort  of  small 
temple,  which  might  have  been  erected  to  the  worship  of 
Beauty,  through  gratitude  for  having  bestowed  so  many 
charms  on  the  softer  sex,  not  that  they  should  nedect 
hem  not  that  they  should  cover  then/with  ash"f  n0 
that  they  should  be  debased  by  contact  with  coarse  and 
sordid  sackcloth,  but  for  the  expression  of  gratitude 

ST  ?henLenThed  7f a11  the  attractions  0f  8™ce'  »S 

all  the  splendour  of  decoration,  that  the  handiwork  of 
the  divinity  may  be  admired  by  all. 

The  light  was  admitted  into  this  semicircular  apart- 

a  a°?  &  rnd°W'  Which  made  the  apartment 
air-tight  and  for  whose  origin  we  are  indebted  to  Ger- 
many. The  walls  of  the  pavilion,  formed  of  large  square 
blocks  of  stone  made  the  embrasure  of  the  window  very 

stll'et  *  f"?  fr0m^ithout  by  a  frame  made  of  I 
single  pane  of  glass,  and  within,  of  a  square  of  ground 

ttZ\  m,*he  8paCe  °f  nearfy  three  feet  bftween 
these  two  windows  was  a  box  filled  with  peat  earth  in 
which  were  planted  climbing  plants,  which,  wandering 

tTt£^rA  glass' formed  a  thi*  ^  * 


83 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Hangings  of  granite-coloured  damask,  shaded  with 
arabesques  of  a  lighter  hue,  covered  the  walls,  whilst  a 
thick  carpet  of  the  same  tint  was  spread  over  the  floor. 
This  sombre  ground,  almost  a  neutral  tint,  set  off  the 
other  decorations  admirably. 

Under  the  window,  which  looked  to  the  south,  was 
Adrienne's  toilet-table,  which  was  a  masterpiece  of 
elaborate  goldsmith's  work. 

On  a  large  slab  of  lapis  lazuli  were  seen  numerous 
vases  of  brilliant  red,  the  tops  of  which  were  splendidly 
enamelled  ;  smelling-bottles  of  rock  crystal,  and  other 
toilet  requisites,  in  mother-o'-pearl,  tortoise-shell,  and 
ivory,  encrusted  with  ornaments  in  gold  of  the  most 
exquisite  workmanship ;  two  large  silver  figures,  mod- 
elled with  classic  purity,  supported  a  large  oval  swing- 
glass,  which,  instead  of  being  enclosed  in  a  formal  carved 
and  twisted  frame,  was  bordered  with  a  wreath  of  natural 
flowers,  daily  renewed  and  arranged  with  all  the  care 
and  taste  of  a  bouquet  for  a  ball. 

Two  enormous  blue  china  vases,  beautifully  covered 
with  a  rich  purple  and  gold  design,  and  standing  at 
least  three  feet  high,  were  placed  at  each  side  oi  the 
toilet-table,  full  of  camelias,  hibiscus,  and  gardenias,  m 
full  bloom,  forming  a  mass  of  the  most  delicious  odours 
as  well  as  colouring. 

At  the  end  of  the  chamber  opposite  the  window,  and 
also  surrounded  with  another  clustering  assemblage  ot 
the  rarest  flowers,  was  a  small  marble  model  of  the 
enchanting  group  of  Daphnis  and  Chloe,  the  most  chaste 
and  exquisite  personation  of  graceful  modesty  and  youth- 
ful beauty  ;  while  two  golden  lamps,  burning  and  dit- 
toing the  richest  odours,  were  placed  on  the  slab  ot 
malachite  which  supported  this  charming  group. 

A  large  coffer  of  frosted  silver,  standing  upon  claws 
of  gilt  bronze,  with  raised  ornaments  of  gold  and  ver- 
meil, and  glittering  with  precious  stones  of  every  colour, 
ed  to  contain  the  different  articles  required  for  the 


serv 

84 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET. 


toilet;  two  Psyche  glasses,  furnished  with  girandoles, 
some  first-rate  copies  of  Raphael  and  Titian,  painted  by 
Adrienne  herself,  representing  only  persons  of  exquisite 
beauty  ;  consoles  of  Oriental  jasper,  supporting  ewers  of 
silver  and  vermeil,  covered  with  an  alto-relievo  of  the 
rarest  kind,  and  containing  the  most  delicate  essences 
and  scented  waters  ;  a  divan  of  downy  softness,  some 
chairs,  and  a  table  of  gilded  wood,  completed  the  fit- 
tings-up  of  an  apartment  redolent  of  the  choicest 
sweets. 

Adrienne,  who  had  just  taken  her  bath,  was  sitting 
before  her  toilet,  surrounded  by  her  three  attendants. 

From  whim,  or  perhaps  from  that  predominant  love 
of  beauty  and  harmony  in  all  things  which  formed  so 
striking  a  part  of  her  character,  Adrienne  insisted  that 
the  young  girls  by  whom  she  was  waited  upon  should 
possess  a  natural  loveliness,  further  increased  by  the 
most  tasteful  and  becoming  costume. 

Georgette,  in  her  bewitching  attire  as  the  soubrette  of 
Marivaux,  has  been  already  described,  and  it  is  sufficient 
to  say  that  her  two  companions  were  every  way  equal  to 
her  in  graceful  prettiness. 

One  of  them,  named  Florine,  was  a  tall,  elegant  girl, 
whose  whole  contour  reminded  the  spectator  of  the  hunt- 
ing Diana.  She  was  a  clear,  pale  brunette,  with  thick, 
rich,  glossy  hair,  black  as  the  raven's  wing,  twisted  in  a 
thick  coil  around  her  head,  and  fastened  at  the  back  by 
a  golden  bodkin  ;  like  the  other  attendants,  she  wore  her 
arms  uncovered,  for  the  greater  facility  of  employing 
them  at  the  toilet  of  her  mistress.  She  was  dressed 
m  a  robe  of  that  peculiar  green  so  frequently  met  with 
m  Venetian  paintings,  the  skirt  of  her  robe  was  ample, 
and  the  tightly  fitting  corsage,  cut  squarely  over  the 
bosom,  displayed  a  snowy  cambric  tucker  finely  plaited, 
and  clasped  down  the  front  with  some  golden  buttons. 

The  third  of  Adrienne's  serving-maids  had  so  sweet, 
so  open,  and  so  blooming  a  countenance,  a  shape  so 

85 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


perfect,  yet  so  delicate,  that  her  mistress  had  bestowed 
on  her  the  appellation  of  Hebe ;  her  dress  of  pale  pink 
was  so  fashioned  as  to  reveal  her  fair  round  throat  and 
arms  naked  to  the  shoulder. 

The  physiognomies  of  these  three  young  persons  were 
smiling  and  happy,  their  features  exhibited  none  of  that 
sour  suspicion,  begrudging  obedience,  offensive  familiar- 
ity, or  mean  abject  deference,  so  commonly  resulting  from 
a  state  of  servitude. 

In  the  attention  and  assiduity  which  they  lavished 
upon  Adrienne,  they  appeared  actuated  as  much  by 
affection  and  choice  as  by  respect,  and  seemed  to 
delight  in  bestowing  a  fresh  lustre  upon  the  brilliant 
beauty  of  their  young  mistress  ;  in  their  zeal  and  anxiety 
to  adorn  and  embellish  her  they  worked  with  all  the 
pleasure  an  artist  would  give  to  some  "  oeuvre  d'art" 
and  evinced  as  much  joy  as  pride  and  fondness  in  the 
success  of  their  labours. 

The  sun  shone  brightly  on  the  toilet-table  placed  oppo- 
site the  window.  Adrienne  was  seated  in  a  low  chair 
with  a  high  back ;  she  was  dressed  only  in  a  wrapping 
gown  of  pale  blue  silk,  figured  over  with  a  device  of  the 
same  colour ;  a  silk  cord  and  tassels  confined  it  around 
her  waist,  graceful  and  slender  as  that  of  a  child  of 
twelve  years  old ;  her  beautiful  and  birdlike  throat  was 
uncovered,  as  were  her  hands  and  arms  of  incomparable 
beauty.  Spite  of  the  commonplace  comparison,  we  can 
liken  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  this  smooth,  polished 
skin  to  nothing  but  the  finest  ivory;  and  so  firm,  so 
healthy  was  its  texture  that  a  few  drops  of  water,  which 
had  remained  among  the  roots  of  her  hair  on  quitting 
the  bath,  trickled  down  her  shoulders  like  pearls  rolling 
over  white  marble. 

What  heightened  still  more  the  vivid  carnation  pecul- 
iar to  persons  so  fair,  was  the  deep  red  of  her  dewy 
lips,  the  transparent  pink  of  her  little  ear,  her  expanded 
nostrils,  and  her  exquisitely  shaped  and  glossy  nails  ; 

86 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET. 


wherever  m  fact,  the  pure  life-blood  could  rise  to  the 
surface,  it  betokened  health,  strength,  and  youth 

sparMin^wil  tu'lT  T*  ^  ^  SOmetime« 
sparkling  with  playful  malice,  at  others,  languishing  and 

half  hid  beneath  their  long  curled  friges,  as  dark  as 

the  finely  arched  brows  which  surmounted     em  for 

by  a  charming  freak  of  nature,  her  eyelashes  and'  eye-' 

IT  7VGtf  W\Ck'  wWle  her  hair  ™*  Wrongly  tinged 
with  red.  Her  forehead,  small  as  those  of  Grecian  statues 
completed  the  perfect  oval  of  her  face;  her  deSelv 
shaped  nose  was  slightly  aquiline;  her  teeth  were  of 

forme7buWt  ;teT;  wMb  hfr  riPe^osy  mouth  s  emed 
termed  but  for  pleasure,  smiles,  and  happiness. 

It  was  impossible  to  imagine  a  more  easy,  yet  digni- 
fied, manner  of  carrying  the  head ;  and  this  graceful  yet 
queenlike  air,  was  materially  owing  to  the  immense 
distance  from  her  ear  and  throat  to  the  tip  oT  her 
dimpled  shoulders.  F  ei 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  hair  of  Adrienne  as 
being  of  a  reddish  hue,  but  it  was  that  peculiar  colour 
which  several  of  the  most  admirable  female  portraits 
painted  by  Titian,  or  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  possess  S 

K?enbceore,bl,ght'm0re  «W,than~e  ina  es" 
ZS*™d  hair>  wa™S  in  natural  beauty  as 
though  liquid  gold  were  circulating  in  fine  silky  thread  • 
and  so  long  was  this  luxuriant  ornament  that  when 
standing,  it  near  y  touched  the  ground,  or  its  fair  owner 

from  thtr  enf0M  herSdf  ^  *  Hke  W  V—  35 
At  this  instant  the  aspect  was  doubly  charming  for 

wTf  fv?'  Sian,dmg  behind  her  ffiistress>  had?«st  col- 
lected the  thick  mass,  almost  too  much  for  her  Sy 

toL     FT  WWle  the  hri%ht  *™  «h°ne  with  vl 
thet  lusTe  0n         ridl  treSS6S  and 

theAnimsetfof  rhaiting"maid  plUnpd  the  iv017  co">b  in 
the  midst  of  the  enormous  silken  tresses,  it  almost 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


seemed  as  though  bright  sparks  issued  forth,  while  the 
morning's  light  and  sun,  as  thej  played  among  the  thick 
long  ringlets  which  parted  off  the  forehead,  fell  down 
the  fair  cheeks  of  Adrienne,  glittered  and  flickered  over 
the  golden  threads,  and  playfully  wantoned  with  the 
quantity  of  curls  which  hung  over  the  snowy  bosom  of 
the  bewitching  person  we  are  describing. 

While  Georgette,  standing  behind  her  mistress,  thus 
braided  and  arranged  her  beautiful  hair,  Hebe,  kneeling 
on  one  knee,  and  having  on  the  other  the  small  foot  of 
Mile,  de  Cardoville,  was  occupied  in  placing  on  it  a  fairy- 
like slipper  of  black  satin,  and  sandalling  it  over  a  thin 
open-worked  silk  stocking,  which  permitted  the  delicate 
pinky  whiteness  of  the  skin  to  be  visible,  and  displayed 
an  ankle  of  most  exquisite  delicacy  and  proportions. 
Florine,  standing  at  a  trifling  distance,  presented  to  her 
mistress  a  vermeil  box,  containing  a  paste  of  most 
fragrant  perfumes,  with  which  Adrienne  lightly  touched 
her  dazzlingly  white  hands  and  taper  fingers,  the  extrem- 
ity of  which  appeared  tinged  with  carmine. 

We  must  not  forget  Lutine,  who,  reposing  on  the  lap 
of  her  mistress,  opened  her  large  eyes  as  wide  as  possible, 
and  seemed  to  follow  the  different  phases  of  Adrienne's 
toilet  with  profound  attention. 

A  silver  bell  having  sounded  without,  Florine,  at  a 
sign  from  her  mistress,  went  out,  and  soon  returned 
with  a  letter  on  a  small  silver  waiter. 

Whilst  her  attendant  completed  her  toilet,  Adrienne 
opened  the  letter,  which  was  from  the  land-steward  of 
Cardoville,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  '  Mademoiselle  :  —  Knowing  your  goodness  of  heart 
and  generosity,  I  take  leave  to  address  myself  to  you 
with  confidence.  For  twenty  years  I  served  the  late 
Count-Duke  of  Cardoville,  your  father,  with  zeal  and 
probity ;  I  think  I  may  say  so  much.  The  chateau  is 
sold,  so  that  my  wife  and  myself  are  on  the  eve  of  being 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET. 


turned  away,  and  shall  be  without  any  resource,  which 
at  our  age,  mademoiselle,  is  very  hard  ' 

"  Poor  creatures  !  "  said  Adrienne,  breaking  off ;  «  my 
father  did  always  say  how  devoted  and  honest  they 
were.  J 

She  continued : 

"  <  We  have  one  means  left  of  keeping  our  place ;  but 
that  is  dependent  on  a  degree  of  baseness  which  we 
could  never  submit  to;  my  wife  and  I  would  rather 
starve  first  — ' 

"Capital!  Excellent!  Always  the  same!"  said  Adri- 
enne ;  «  dignity  in  poverty  is  the  perfume  of  the  wild 
flower. 

m  " '  To  explain,  mademoiselle,  the  unworthy  task  which 
is  required  of  us,  I  ought  first  to  tell  you  that,  two  days 
ago,  M.  Rodin  arrived  from  Paris  — ' 
.  "Ah,  M.  Rodin!"  said  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  again 
interrupting  herself,  "the  secretary  of  the  Abbe  d'Aig- 
gngny !  Iam  not  now  astonished  at  any  baseness  or 
dark  intrigue.    Well,  to  go  on : 

"<M.  Rodin  came  from  Paris  to  tell  us  that  the 
estate  was  sold,  and  that  we  might  still  retain  our 
situations,  if.  we  would  assist  him  in  making  the  new 
proprietress  take  for  her  confessor  a  certain  noted  priest  ■ 
and,  the  better  to  effect  this,  we  must  agree  to  calumni- 
ate another  curate,  a  most  excellent  man,  much  respected 
and  beloved  in  the  district.  This  was  not  all.  I  was  to 
write  secretly,  twice  a  week,  all  that  occurred  in  the 
chateau  I  must  own,  mademoiselle,  that  these  dis- 
graceful propositions  were  disguised  as  much  as  possible 
and  concealed  under  very  specious  pretexts;  but,  in  spite 
ot  the  form  m  which  they  were  more  or  less  skilfully 
put,  the  real  meaning  was  just  as  I  have  the  honour  to 

inform  you,  mademoiselle  ' 

"  Corruption,  calumny,  and  treachery  !  "  said  Adrienne 
m  an  accent  of  deep  disgust.  « I  cannot  think  of  these 
individuals  without  awaking  involuntarily  in  my  mind 


THE  WANDERING  JEW, 


thoughts  of  darkness,  venom,  and  black  atrocious  rep- 
tiles, they  are,  indeed,  hideous  in  their  aspect.  I 

prefer  to  think  of  the  mild  and  benignant  faces  of  poor 
Dupont  and  his  wife." 
Adrienne  continued : 

"'Do  not  suppose,  mademoiselle,  that  we  hesitated 
for  one  moment.  We  may  quit  Cardoville,  where  we 
have  resided  for  twenty  years,  but  we  will  leave  it  with 
honour.  Now,  mademoiselle,  if,  amongst  your  influential 
acquaintances,  you,  who  are  so  good,  could  procure  us 
a  situation  by  your  recommendation,  we  might  perhaps, 
mademoiselle,  be  relieved  from  our  cruel  embarrass- 
ment — '  ,  - 

"Certainly,  they  shall  not  address  me  in  vain.  To 
snatch  the  good  people  from  M.  Rodin's  claws  is  a  duty 
and  a  pleasure,  and  is  both  just  and  dangerous  ;  but  I 
like  to  brave  those  who  are  powerful  and  oppressive." 

Adrienne  continued : 

"  £  After  having  spoken  to  you  of  ourselves,  mademoi- 
selle, allow  us  to  implore  your  protection  for  others,  for 
it  would  be  wrong  to  think  of  ourselves  only.  Two 
vessels  have  been  wrecked  on  our  coast  three  days  ago ; 
a  few  passengers  only  were  saved,  and  brought  here, 
where  my  wife  and  myself  have  given  them  everything 
that  their  immediate  necessities  have  demanded.  Some 
of  them  have  gone  on  to  Paris;  but  one  still  remains 
here.  His  injuries  have  prevented  him,  up  to  the  present 
time,  from  leaving  the  chateau,  and  will  detain  him 
here  yet  some  days  longer.  He  is  a  young  Indian  prince, 
about  twenty  years  of  age,  and  he  appears  to  be  as 
amiable  as  he  is  handsome,  which  is  not  saying  a  little, 
although  he  has  the  dark  complexion  which  all  his 
countrvmen  have  also  — ' 

"  An  Indian  prince  !  Twenty  years  of  age  !  Young, 
good,  and  handsome!"  exclaimed  Adrienne,  gaily. 
"  That  is  charming,  and  decidedly  out  of  the  common 
way  ;  this  shipwrecked  prince  has  my  utmost  sympathy. 

90 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET. 


But  what  can  I  do  for  this  Adonis  from  the  banks  of  the 
Ganges,  who  has  been  thrown  on  the  coast  of  Picardy 

Adrienne's  three  women  looked  at  her  with  but  little 
surprise,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  the  singularities  of 
her  character.  Georgette  and  Hebe  smiled  discreetly  ; 
Ilorme,  the  tall,  handsome,  pale  brunette,  smiled  also 
but  a  moment  after,  and  it  would  seem  upon  reflection' 
as  if  she  had  been  first  and  particularly  employed  in 
attending  to  and  recollecting  every  word  that  fell  from 
her  mistress,  who,  being  deeply  interested  in  her  Adonis 
from  the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  as  she  termed  him 
continued  the  perusal  of  the  steward's  letter  : 

"  <  One  of  the  Indian  prince's  countrymen,  who  stayed 
with  him  to  take  care  of  him,  has  given  me  to  under- 
stand that  the  young  prince  lost  everything  he  possessed 
m  the  world,  and  was  actually  at  a  loss  for  the  means  to 
reach  Pans,  where  his  immediate  presence  was  requisite 
on  very  important  matters.  It  is  not  from  the  prince 
himself  that  I  had  these  details,  — he  appears  too  re- 
served and  proud  to  make  any  complaint,  —  but  his 
teliow  countryman,  more  communicative,  told  me  all  this, 
adding  that  the  young  prince  had  already  undergone 
great  troubles,  and  that  his  father,  the  king  of  a  territory 
in  India,  had  been  recently  killed  and  dispossessed  by 
the  English  — '  J 

"That  is  very  strange,"  said  Adrienne,  reflecting 
These  particulars  remind  me  that  my  father  often 
talked  to  me  of  a  relation  of  ours  who  married  an 
Indian,  a  king  of  that  country,  with  whom  General 
feimon^  who  has  been  made  marshal,  took  service." 
I  hen   interrupting  herself  she  added,  with  a  smile, 
Oh,  how  strange  it  would  be!     It  is  only  to  me 
that  such  strange  things  happen,  and  they  call  me  an 
original ;  it  is  not  I,  as  I  think,  but  in  reality  Providence 
who  sometimes  produces  such  strange  things     But  le+ 
me  see  if  poor  Dupont  has  given  me  the  name  of  this 
handsome  prince. 

91 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  6 1  am  sure,  mademoiselle,  that  you  will  excuse  us  ; 
but  we  should  have  felt  that  we  were  very  selfish  in  men- 
tioning our  own  troubles  only,  when  we  have  with  us 
a  brave  and  worthy  young  prince  so  much  to  be  pitied. 
Pray,  mademoiselle,  believe  me,  for  I  am  old,  and  have- 
had  great  experience  of  mankind,  and  I  assure  you  that 
you  have  only  to  see  the  nobility  and  sweet  countenance 
of  this  young  Indian,  and  I  assure  you  that  you  would 
at  once  feel  the  interest  which  I  entreat  you  to  show  for 
him.  It  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  send  him  a  small 
sum  of  money  to  buy  him  some  European  clothing,  for 
he  has  lost  his  Indian  attire  in  the  shipwreck  — ' 

"  What !  European  clothing  !  "  exclaimed  Adrienne, 
gaily.  "  Poor  young  prince  !  Heaven  preserve  him  from 
such,  and  me  also !  Chance  sends  me,  from  the  remote 
parts  of  India,  a  mortal  so  favoured  as  never  yet  to  have 
worn  that  odious  European  costume,  those  hideous  habits, 
those  frightful  hats,  which  make  men  so  ridiculous,  so  ugly, 
that,  in  fact,  there  is  no  virtue  in  not  finding  them  at  all 
seducing  creatures.  Well,  there  comes  a  handsome  young 
prince  from  that  Eastern  clime  where  the  men  are  attired 
in  silk,  muslin,  and  cashmere  ;  and,  most  certainly,  I 
will  not  lose  so  favourable  an  occasion  to  show  no  Euro- 
pean clothing,  whatever  poor  old  Dupont  may  say.  But 
the  name !  The  name  of  this  dear  prince !  Again,  I 
say,  how  singular,  if  it  should  prove  to  be  my  cousin 
from  beyond  the  Ganges  !  I  have  heard,  in  my  child- 
hood, so  much  to  the  advantage  of  his  royal  father,  that 
I  should  be  delighted  to  offer  his  good  son  a  worthy 
reception.  But  the  name !  The  name !  I  want  the 
name ! " 

Adrienne  continued : 

" '  If,  in  addition  to  this  small  sum,  mademoiselle,  you 
would  afford  him  and  his  fellow  countryman  the  means 
of  reaching  Paris,  you  would  do  a  great  additional  ser- 
vice to  this  poor  young  prince,  already  so  unfortunate. 
I  know,  mademoiselle,  that  it  may,  most  probably,  please 

92 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET. 


you,  m  your  consideration  of  delicacy,  to  send  this  suc- 
cour to  the  young  prince  without  your  name  being 
revealed,  and  should  this  be  the  case,  I  beg  you  will 
make  any  use  of  me  that  may  please  you,  and  rely  on 
my  discretion;  if,  on  the  contrary,  you  would  wish  to 
send  to  him  direct,  I  add  his  name,  as  it  was  written  for 
me  by  his  fellow  countryman,  Prince  Djalma,  son  of 
Kadja-Smg,  King  of  Mundi.' 

«  Djalma !  "  said  Adrienne,  endeavouring  to  recall  cer- 
tain recollections.    "Kadja-Sing!   Yes, 'tis  he  !  Those 
are  the  names  my  father  so  often  repeated,  when  he  told 
me  that  nothing  in  the  world  was  or  could  be  more 
chivalrous,  more  heroic,  than  that  old  Indian  king,  our 
relation  by  marriage  ;  and  it  does  not  appear  that  the 
son  has  deteriorated  from  the  sire.  Yes,  Djalma  »  Kadia- 
bmg!  —  yes,  these  are  the  names.    They  are  not  such 
common  ones,"  she  said,  with  a  smile,  « that  one  could 
forget  or  confound  them  with  others.    So,  Djalma  is  my 
cousin!    He  is  brave  and  good,  young  and  charming 
has  never  yet  worn  that  frightful  European  habit,  and  is 
destitute  of  every  resource.    Delightful !   It  is  too  great 
happiness  at  once !    Quick,  quick  !    Let  us  get  up  some 
Pfnl  f^  tale,  of  which  this  handsome  Prince  Cheri 
shall  be  the  hero.   Poor  bird  of  gold  and  silver  plumage, 
wandering  m  our  sad  climate  ;  at  last  he  shall  find  here 
something  to  remind  him  of  his  own  land  of  light  and 
perfumes !      Then  addressing  one  of  her  women  : 
"  Georgette,  take  paper  and  write,  my  child  ' " 
The  young  girl  went  to  the  gilded  table,  where  there 
were  writing  materials,  and  said  (after  she  had  seated 
herself)  to  her  mistress  : 

"  I  await  mademoiselle's  instructions." 
Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  whose  lovely  face  was  radiant 
with  joy  happiness,  and  mirth,  dictated  the  following 
note  addressed  to  a  worthy  old  artist  who  had  long 
taught  her  drawing  and  painting;  for  she  excelled  in 
tnese  arts,  as  well  as  in  all  others : 


93 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


" 6  My  dear  Titian,  my  good  Veronese,  my  worthy 
Raphael :  —  You  can  do  me  an  immense  service,  and  I 
know  you  will  do  it,  with  that  entire  kindness  I  have 
invariably  found  in  you.  You  will  go  and  see  directly 
the  learned  artist  who  designed  my  last  costumes  of  the 
fifteenth  century.  I  want  now  some  modern  Indian  cos- 
tumes for  a  young  man  —  yes,  a  young  man,  sir  !  —  and, 
as  far  as  I  believe,  you  may  take  his  measure  by  the 
Antinous,  —  or,  rather,  the  Indian  Bacchus  will  be  more 
apropos. 

" '  These  costumes  must  be  perfectly  correct,  very 
rich,  and  particularly  elegant.  You  will  select  the  rich- 
est materials  possible  that  resemble  the  tissues  of  India ; 
and  add,  for  cummerbunds  and  turbans,  six  splendid  long 
cashmere  shawls,  two  white,  two  red,  and  two  orange- 
colour  ;  nothing  suits  brown  skins  like  those  hues. 

" <  Having  done  this  (and  I  can  only  allow  you  two  or 
three  days  to  complete  all),  you  will  start  in  my  travel- 
ling-carriage for  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville,  which  you 
know  well.  There  the  steward,  the  worthy  Dupont,  an 
old  acquaintance  of  yours,  will  introduce  you  to  a  young 
Indian  prince,  whose  name  is  Djalma ;  and  you  will  say 
to  this  high  and  mighty  seigneur  of  another  world  that 
you  have  come  from  an  unknown  friend,  who,  acting  as 
a  brother,  sends  him  what  is  requisite  to  avoid  the  odious 
fashions  of  Europe.  You  will  add  that  this  friend  awaits 
him  with  so  much  impatience,  that  he  prays  him  to  come 
to  Paris  without  delay.  If  my  protege  object  because  he 
is  in  pain,  you  must  say  that  my  carriage  is  an  excellent 
bed;  and  you  will  arrange  the  couch  in  the  berline  as 
conveniently  as  possible.  You  must  be  careful  to  apolo- 
gise, on  the  part  of  the  unknown  friend,  for  not  sending 
to  the  prince  either  rich  palanquins  or  even  a  small 
elephant;  for,  alas!  we  have  no  palanquins  but  at  the 
opera,  and  no  elephants  but  in  the  menagerie,  which,  no 
doubt,  will  make  us  seem  very  uncouth  savages  in  the 
eyes  of  my  protege*. 

94 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET. 


" '  As  soon  as  you  have  decided  on  setting  out,  you 
must  travel  with  all  speed,  and  bring  him  here  into  my 
pavilion  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone.  (How  singular  for  him 
to  live  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone !  That  is  an  Eastern 
name  for  him,  I  think.)  Yes,  conduct  to  me  here  the 
dear  prince  so  fortunate  as  to  be  born  in  the  land  of 
flowers,  diamonds,  and  sunshine. 

"'You  will,  moreover,  be  so  obliging,  my  dear  old 
friend,  as  not  to  be  surprised  at  this  new  whim  of  mine, 
and  especially  not  to  indulge  in  any  extravagant  conjec- 
ture. Seriously,  the  choice  I  make  of  you  in  this 
circumstance  —  of  you  whom  I  love  and  honour  sin- 
cerely —  will  convince  you  that  at  the  bottom  of  all  this 
there  is  more  than  mere  folly.' " 

Whilst  she  dictated  these  last  words,  Adrienne's  tone 
was  serious  and  elevated  as  it  had  before  been  pleasing 
and  playful.  & 
But  she  speedily  reassumed  her  gay  tone. 
« <  Adieu,  my  old  friend  llama  little  like  the  captain 
ol  the  ancient  times,  whose  heroic  nose  and  conquering 
chin  you  so  often  placed  before  me  as  models.    I  joke 
and  jest  most  freely  always  at  the  moment  when  the 
fight  begins,  — yes,  the  fight,  — for  in  another  hour  I 
shall  fight  a  battle,  a  serious  battle,  with  that  dear 
devotee  my  aunt.    Fortunately,  courage  and  daring  do 
not  tail  me,  and  I  burn  to  engage  in  action  with  the 
austere  princess. 

"  <  Adieu,  a  thousand  kind  and  hearty  souvenirs  to 
your  good  wife!    If  I  speak  of  her  — mind,  of  her  so 
justly  respected  — it  is  to  assure  you  as  to  the  conse- 
quences of  this  carrying  off  a  charming  young  prince  on 
my  behalf;  for  I 'must  conclude  where  I  ought  to  have 
begun,  and  tell  you  that  he  is  charming. 
"  4  Again,  adieu  ! '  " 
Then,  addressing  Georgette : 
"  Have  you  done,  little  maiden  ?  " 
"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 


95 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Ah,  the  postscript ! 

" 4 1  send  you  a  letter  of  credit  on  my  banker  for  all 
expenses.  Spare  nothing  ;  you  know  I  am  really  a  grand 
seigneur.  I  am  compelled  to  use  this  masculine  phrase, 
which  you  men  —  tyrants  as  you  are  —  have  exclusively 
appropriated  as  expressive  of  noble  generosity.' 

"  Now,  Georgette,"  said  Adrienne,  "  bring  me  a  sheet 
of  paper  and  the  letter,  that  I  may  sign  it." 

Mile,  de  Cardoville  took  the  pen  which  Georgette  pre- 
sented to  her,  and  signed  the  letter  enclosing  an  order 
on  her  banker,  as  follows  : 

"  Pay  to  M.  Norval,  or  his  order,  the  sum  he  may 
draw  for  his  expenses  in  my  name. 

"  Adrienne  de  Cardoville." 

During  the  whole  of  this  scene,  and  whilst  Georgette 
was  writing,  Florine  and  Hebe  had  continued  to  occupy 
themselves  in  completing  the  toilet  of  their  mistress, 
who  had  taken  off  her  dressing-gown  and  dressed  her- 
self, in  order  to  go  to  see  her  aunt. 

By  the  close,  undivided,  but  yet  concealed  attention 
which  Florine  paid  to  the  dictation  of  Adrienne's  letter 
to  M.  Norval,  it  was  easy  to  see  that,  according  to  her 
custom,  she  was  endeavouring  to  retain  every  word  that 
fell  from  Mile,  de  Cardoville. 

"  My  little  one,"  said  mademoiselle  to  Hebe,  "  go  and 
send  off  this  letter  to  M.  Norval." 

Again  the  silver  bell  was  heard  without. 

Hebe  was  going  to  the  door  to  inquire  who  it  was,  and 
execute  her  mistress's  orders,  when  Florine  ran  before 
her,  saying  to  Adrienne  : 

"  Will  mademoiselle  allow  me  to  carry  this  letter  ?  I 
want  to  go  to  the  large  house." 

"  Yes,  you  can  go.  Hebe,  see  who  is  at  the  door ; 
and  Georgette,  seal  this  letter." 

At  the  end  of  a  minute,  whilst  Georgette  was  sealing 
the  letter,  Hebe  returned. 

96 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  she  said,  as  she  returned,  "  the  work- 
man who  found  Lutine  yesterday  begs  to  see  you  for  an 
instant ;  he  looks  very  pale  and  sorrowful." 

"  What,  does  he  want  me  already  ?  That  is  fortunate," 
said  Adrienne,  in  a  mirthful  tone.  ''Tell  the  good, 
honest  fellow  I  will  see  him,  and  show  him  into  the 
little  salon ;  and,  Florine,  do  you  go  and  send  this  letter 
away  without  delay." 

Florine  went  out. 
^  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  followed  by  Lutine,  went  into  the 
little  salon,  where  Agricola  awaited  her. 


97 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  INTERVIEW. 

Adrienne  de  Cardovtlle  entered  the  salon,  in  which 
Agricola  awaited  her,  dressed  with  the  most  extreme 
yet  elegant  simplicity.  A  robe  of  dark  blue  kerseymere, 
fitting  tightly  to  the  shape,  and  embroidered  down  the 
front  with  broad  black  lacings,  according  to  the  prevail- 
ing mode  of  the  day,  admirably  displayed  her  nymph-like 
figure  and  finely  proportioned  bust ;  a  small  square  cam- 
bric collar  was  turned  back  over  a  broad-checked  riband 
tied  in  a  neat  rosette,  serving  at  once  as  a  slight  substi- 
tute for  a  throat  handkerchief,  and  giving  a  suitable 
finish  to  her  dress.  Her  magnificent  golden  hair  hung 
down  her  lovely  countenance  in  a  profusion  of  bright 
glittering  ringlets,  some  of  them  even  reaching  her 
waist. 

Agricola,  the  better  to  elude  his  father's  suspicions, 
and  to  confirm  him  in  the  idea  of  his  being  really 
obliged  to  go  to  the  manufactory  for  M.  Hardy,  had  not 
dared  to  dress  himself  in  any  but  his  working  clothes ; 
the  only  difference  he  had  ventured  to  make  was  to  put 
on  a  new  blouse,  and  to  tie  a  black  silk  handkerchief 
around  his  throat  to  support  the  collar  of  a  shirt,  which, 
if  coarse,  was  white  as  hands  could  make  it ;  his  large, 
loose,  gray  trousers  displayed  boots  brightly  polished, 
while  his  muscular  hands  held  a  smart  and  new  cloth 
cap ;  in  a  word,  this  blue  blouse,  embroidered  with  red, 
which  allowed  such  easy  play  to  the  broad,  manly  chest 
of  the  young  smith,  and  developed  his  robust  shoulders, 

98 


THE  INTERVIEW. 


falling  in  graceful  folds  around  his  youthful  yet  athletic 
ngure,  far  from  detracting  from  his  naturally  frank  pre- 
possessing appearance,  became  him  far  more  than  the 
most  elaborate  labours  of  the  tailor  or  hatter  could  have 
done. 

Whilst  waiting  the  appearance  of  Mile,  de  Cardoville 
Agricola  mechanically  examined  a  magnificent  silver 
vase  of  most  exquisite  workmanship.  A  small  plate 
ot  the  same  metal,  attached  to  the  marble  pedestal  on 
which  the  vase  stood,  bore  these  words :  «  Sculptured  by 
Jean  Mane,  a  working  sculptor,  1830." 

Adrienne  had  stepped  so  lightly  over  the  carpet  of  the 
apartment,  which  was  only  separated  from  the  adjoining 
one  by  folding  doors,  which  opened  and  shut  without  the 
least  sound,  that  Agricola  perceived  not  her  approach  • 
he  started  and  turned  quickly  around,  as  a  sweet  silvery 
voice  just  behind  him  said  : 

"  That  is  a  handsome  vase,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"It  is  indeed,  madame,"  answered  Agricola,  much 
embarrassed. 

"You  perceive  I  am  a  lover  of  justice,"  continued 
Mile,  de  Cardoville,  pointing  to  the  small  silver  plate  ■ 
"  a  painter  affixes  his  name  to  his  picture ;  an  author 
subscribes  his  name  to  the  book  he  writes ;  why,  then 
should  not  a  workman  in  any  art  also  distinguish  the 
product  ot  his  labours  in  like  manner  ?  " 

"  And  this  name,  madame  —  " 

"  Is  merely  that  of  a  poor  sculptor,  who  executed  the 
work  for  a  rich  goldsmith,  who,  when  he  sold  me 
the  yase,  seemed  utterly  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  my 
whim;  he  almost  hinted  my  injustice,  when,  having 
informed  me  the  name  of  the  person  who  really  pro- 
duced this  gem  (in  its  way),  I  insisted  that  the  name  of 
the  workman,  and  not  the  mere  seller,  should  be  affixed 
to  the  pedestal.  If  the  artisan  be  denied  riches,  he 
should  at  least  be  permitted  to  enjoy  the  fame  he  earns ; 
do  you  not  agree  with  me  ? " 

99 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Had  Adrienne  tried  ever  so  hard,  she  could  not  better 
have  selected  a  subject  of  more  absorbing  interest  to  the 
young  smith,  who,  recovering  his  first  confusion,  replied  : 

"  Being  myself  a  workman,  I  can  but  feel  doubly 
touched  with  this  act  of  justice  and  impartial  praise." 

«  That  being  the  case,  I  am,  indeed,  delighted  to  have 
had  the  present  opportunity  of  evincing  to  you  the  sin- 
cere interest  I  take  in  the  working  classes.  But  pray  be 
seated;"  and  with  an  affable  wave  of  the  hand  she 
pointed  to  an  armchair  of  purple  silk,  embroidered 
with  gold,  seating  herself  upon  a  causeuse  of  the  same 
material. 

Perceiving  the  returning  confusion  of  Agricola,  who 
cast  down  his  eyes  as  though  fearful  of  presuming  too 
far,  should  he  accept  the  gracious  permission  to  prolong 
his  stay  by  taking  a  seat,  Adrienne  said,  gaily,  pointing 
to  Lutine : 

"This  poor  little  creature  will  always  be  a  living 
source  of  grateful  recollections  for  all  your  kindness, 
and  I  accept  your  visit  to-day  as  a  happy  omen  that  my 
earnest  wishes  are  about  to  be  realised ;  an  indescribable 
something  whispers  to  me  that  you  have  found  some 
means  by  which  I  can  be  serviceable  to  you." 

"Madame,"  replied  Agricola,  boldly,  "my  name  is 
Baudoin ;  I  am  a  working  smith,  in  the  employ  of  M. 
Hardy,  at  Plessy,  near  Paris.  Yesterday  you  offered  me 
your  purse,  which  I  refused ;  but  I  now  come  to  ask  you 
for  perhaps  ten,  twenty  times  the  sum  you  then  proffered 
me.  I  will  explain  myself  better  by  and  by,  as  to  what 
I  mean;  but  the  hardest  part  is  to  give  utterance  to 
those  words,  which  seem  to  scorch  my  lips  as  I  pro- 
nounce them ;  but  they  are  spoken  now,  and  I  feel  much 
relieved." 

"  Be  assured,  I  both  respect  and  appreciate  the  deli- 
cacy of  your  scruples,"  said  Adrienne;  "but  had  you 
known  me  better,  you  would  have  felt  no  apprehension 
in  applying  to  me.    What  sum  do  you  require  ?  " 

100 


THE  INTERVIEW. 


"  I  do  not  know,  mademoiseIle.,, 
"  You  do  not  know  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  mademoiselle,  I  am  so  entirely  ignorant  on 
the  subject,  that  I  have  not  only  come  to  request  you 
will  generously  aid  me  with  the  sum  I  need,  but  also 
have  the  goodness  to  tell  me  what  amount  I  do  require ! " 

"  But,"  said  Adrienne,  smiling  good-naturedly,  "  you 
must  explain  yourself  more  clearly;  for,  spite  of  my 
readiness  to  serve  you,  you  have  not  yet  told  me  in  what 
way  I  can  best  do  so." 

"Well,  then,  mademoiselle,  in  a  few  words,  this  is 
precisely  the  case :  I  have  a  dearly  loved  and  excellent 
mother  now  falling  into  years,  who,  in  her  youth,  ruined 
her  health  by  excessive  labour  to  maintain  and  educate 
not  only  myself,  but  a  poor  deserted  child  she  took 
charge  of.  It  is  now  my  turn  to  work  for  and  support 
her,  and,  thanks  to  Providence,  I  have  been  happy 
enough  to  do  so.  But  I  have  only  my  daily  work  to 
depend  upon,  and  if  I  am  prevented  from  attending 
to  that,  my  poor  mother  will  be  left  destitute." 

"  Be  under  no  fears  for  your  mother,  she  can  never 
want  while  I  take  an  interest  in  her." 

"And  do  you  interest  yourself  for  her,  mademoi- 
selle ? " 

"  Assuredly ! " 
"  You  know  her,  then  ?  " 
"  Yes,  now  I  do  !  " 
.  "  Ah>  mademoiselle,"  said  Agricola,  with  much  emo- 
tion, and  after  a  brief  silence,  "  I  understand  you.  Ah, 
you  have  a  noble  heart !    La  Mayeux  was  right !  " 

"  La  Mayeux !  "  exclaimed  Adrienne,  regarding  Agri- 
cola  with  the  most  unfeigned  surprise,  for  these  words 
were  quite  an  enigma  to  her. 

The  young  artisan,  whose  mind  was  too  nobly  consti- 
tuted to  be  capable  of  blushing  for  the  poverty  or  per- 
sonal disadvantages  of  his  friends,  replied,  stoutly  : 
"  Mademoiselle,  I  was  going  to  explain  that  La  Mayeux 

101 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


is  the  name  of  a  poor  but  industrious  young  needle- 
woman, with  whom  I  have  been  brought  up ;  the  poor 
girl  is  called  La  Mayeux  because  she  has  the  misfortune 
to  be  deformed,  so  that  you  may  easily  imagine  her  place 
in  this  world  is  as  low  and  humble  as  yours  is  great  and 
elevated ;  but  for  noble  and  delicate  feelings  —  for  real 
generosity  of  heart !  Ah,  mademoiselle,  there  I  am  sure 
she  is  even  your  equal.  Ah,  if  you  had  only  heard  how 
quickly  she  understood  your  real  motives  and  kindness 
in  giving  me  that  beautiful  flower  yesterday !  " 

"I  assure  you,  monsieur,"  said  Adrienne,  sincerely 
touched  by  these  simple  phrases,  "  that  I  feel  more  flat- 
tered and  honoured  by  the  comparison  you  have  just 
made,  than  in  the  highest  eulogium  you  could  pronounce. 
The  heart  which  remains  good  and  delicate  after  the  long 
endurance  of  heavy  troubles  is  a  treasure  indeed ! " 

"  It  is  as  easy,  with  youth  and  beauty  to  aid  us,  to  be 
good  and  amiable,  as  it  is  to  pass  for  generous  and  deli- 
cate-minded when  we  have  riches  at  our  command." 

"  I  accept  your  flattering  comparison,  but  upon  condi- 
tion that  you  quickly  enable  me  to  prove  my  right  to  it. 
Pray  continue  your  little  history." 

Spite  of  the  gracious  affability  of  Mile,  de  Car- 
doville,  there  was  in  her  whole  manner  so  much  of 
that  natural  dignity  which  is  always  associated  with  in- 
dependence of  character,  elevation  of  mind,  and  nobleness 
of  sentiment,  that  Agricola,  forgetting  the  extreme  love- 
liness of  his  protectress,  soon  felt  for  her  a  species  of 
affectionate  and  profound  respect,  singularly  opposed  to 
the  age  and  vivacity  of  the  young  creature  who  excited 
it. 

"Were  it  only  on  my  mother's  account,"  continued 
Agricola,  "  I  should  not  be  so  very  fearful  of  the  conse- 
quences of  being  obliged  to  leave  my  work,  because  poor 
folks  always  help  each  other.  My  mother  is  much  be- 
loved throughout  the  house  we  live  in,  and  our  kind  and 
worthy  neighbours  would  do  their  utmost  to  assist  her ; 

102 


THE  INTERVIEW. 


but,  poor  things,  they  have  nothing  to  spare,  and  they 
must  take  from  their  own  families  to  give  to  her  ;  and 
the  very  thoughts  of  such  a  thing  would  grieve  my  dear 
mother  far  more  than  wanting  herself.  But  it  is  not 
solely  for  her  I  require  to  keep  to  my  employment,  but 
lor  my  lather  also,  whom  we  have  not  seen  until  now  for 
eighteen  years.  He  has  just  returned  from  Siberia,  where 
he  stayed  out  of  devotion  to  his  old  general,  now  Field- 
Marshal  Simon." 

"  Marshal  Simon !  »  exclaimed  Adrienne,  eagerly,  and 
with  great  surprise. 

"  Do  you  know  him,  madame  ?  " 
fam%"  perS°nally;  but  he  mai™d  a  branch  of  our 

"Oh,  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  that !  "  cried  the  smith. 

Inen  the  two  young  ladies  my  father  brought  from 
Russia  are  related  to  you  ?." 

"Has  the  marshal  two  daughters  ?"  demanded  Adri- 
enne, becoming  still  more  astonished  as  well  as  inter- 
ested. 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle ;  two  angelic  creatures  of  about 
fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age.  They  are  twins  ;  so  gentle 
and  pretty  and  so  exactly  alike,  it  is  difficult  to  distin- 

f Ti0nrir°^  the  °ther-  Their  mothel'  died  m  exile, 
and  the  little  she  possessed  having  been  confiscated,  they 
have  journeyed  all  the  way  from  the  furthermost  part  of 
bibena  m  the  most  humble  manner,  with  no  other  com- 

and  devotion  for  the  many  privations  they  were  com- 
pelled to  endure.  And  he  was  as  tender  with  them  — 
ah  madame,  you  would  scarcely  believe  the  tenderness 
with  which  my  brave  father  watched  over  them;  you 
would  hardly  think,  to  look  at  him,  that,  with  the  cour- 
age oi  a  lion,  he  could  soften  himself  down  to  the 
gentleness  of  the  fondest  mother." 

Adrienne  ^  theS6  ^  children  now?"  said 

103 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


«  At  our  house,  mademoiselle ;  and  that  was  one  of 
the  reasons  which  rendered  my  situation  so  unfortunate 
and  perplexing,  and  gave  me  courage  to  lay  my  case 
before  you.  It  is  not  that  I  fear  being  able  by  my  daily 
labour  to  provide  for  the  wants  of  our  little  household, 
even  in  its  present  enlarged  state,  but  what  will  become 
of  them  all  if  I  am  arrested  ?  " 

"  Arrested  ?    You !    And  for  what  ? " 

"  Here,  mademoiselle,  have  the  goodness  to  read  this 
letter,  which  was  sent  to  La  Mayeux,  that  poor  deformed 
girl  I  was  telling  you  about ;  but  she  is  like  a  sister  to 
me." 

So  saying,  Agricola  placed  in  the  hands  of  Mile, 
de  Cardoville  the  anonymous  letter  received  by  the  young 
sempstress. 

After  having  perused  it,  Adrienne  said  to  the  smith, 
with  surprise,  "  So  you  are  a  poet,  it  seems !  " 

"Indeed,  mademoiselle,"  answered  the  smith,  "I  have 
neither  the  ambition  nor  presumption  to  aspire  to  that 
title  ;  but  when  I  go  home  to  my  mother,  after  my  day's 
toil  is  over,  or,  indeed,  sometimes  while  busy  at  the  forge, 
to  amuse  or  recreate  myself  I  sometimes  indulge  in 
making  a  few  rhymes,  an  ode  or  two,  or  may  be  a 
song  —  " 

"And  this  <  Song  of  the  Working  Man'  (Chant  des 
Travailleurs),  which  is  alluded  to  in  the  letter,  is,  I  sup- 
pose, of  a  dangerous  and  seditious  description." 

«  Oh,  no,  mademoiselle  !  Very  far  from  it ;  for  I  have 
the  good  fortune  to  be  employed  by  M.  Hardy,  who  takes 
delight  in  rendering  his  work-people  as  happy  as  others 
do  the  reverse  ;  and  I  merely  ventured  to  make  a  warm, 
candid,  and  just  appeal  in  favour  of  the  less  fortunate 
class  of  my  fellow  workmen  — nothing  more,  I  assure 
you.  But  you  are  aware,  mademoiselle,  in  such  troubled 
times  as  the  present,  when  fresh  discontent  and  conspir- 
acy are  being  daily  detected,  the  innocent  are  frequently 
involved  in  their  consequences,  and  have,  at  the  very 

104 


THE  INTERVIEW. 


least,  a  short  imprisonment  to  undergo  before  they  can 
be  cleared  of  the  charge  made  against  them.  Now,  were 
such  a  misfortune  to  befall  me,  what  would  become  of 
my  mother,  my  father,  or  the  two  orphans,  whom  we 
consider  as  part  of  the  family  until  the  return  of  General 
Simon  ?  So,  mademoiselle,  as  my  only  chance  of  escap- 
ing a  blow  that  would  bring  such  distress  and  misery  to 
those  most  dear  to  me,  I  have  presumed  to  ask  of  you 
to  give  a  security  for  me,  so  that  I  should  not  be  com- 
pelled to  quit  the  workshop  for  a  prison,  but  might,  in 
perfect  security,  earn  all  that  would  be  requisite  for  our 
family's  support." 

"  Well,  Heaven  be  praised  !  "  replied  Adrienne,  gaily, 
"  yours  is  an  affair  very  easily  arranged !  Henceforward, 
my  poetical  friend,  you  shall  draw  your  inspirations 
from  happiness,  not  sorrow,  which  forms  but  an  ungenial 
muse.  In  the  first  place,  the  security  you  require  shall 
be  lodged  in  the  proper  hands." 

"  Oh,  madame  !  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  as  I  ought ! 
You  have  saved  us  from  a  grief  you  can  form  no  idea 
of." 

"It  fortunately  happens  that  our  family  doctor  is 
upon  most  intimate  terms  with  a  very  important  min- 
ister (form  what  conjectures  you  may,  you  will  not 
be  much  out)  ;  now  the  doctor  I  speak  of  has  extreme 
influence  over  the  mind  of  this  great  statesman,  for  he 
had  the  happiness  of  recommending  to  him,  for  the 
good  of  his  health,  to  retire  to  the  delights  of  private 
life  the  very  evening  preceding  the  day  in  which  he  was 
dismissed  from  his  place  in  the  government.  Be,  there- 
fore, quite  easy  on  the  subject,  and  if  the  security  be 
not  deemed  sufficient,  we  will  think  of  some  better 
means." 

"  Madame,"  exclaimed  Agricola,  with  feeling,  deep  and 
profound  emotion,  "I  shall  in  all  probability  owe  my 
mother's  life  to  your  goodness.  Believe  me,  nothing 
shall  ever  make  me  forget  your  goodness  of  to-day." 

105 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Nay,  I  beseech  you,  do  not  magnify  so  mere  a  trifle  ! 
Surely,  it  is  but  fair,  those  who  have  too  much  should 
be  permitted  to  help  others  who  have  not  sufficient. 
Another  thing  I  have  to  say  is,  the  daughters  of  Generai 
Simon  are  my  relations,  and  shall  take  up  their  abode 
here  with  me,  — it  will  be  more  fitting  for  all  parties. 
Inform  your  good  mother  of  this,  and  say  that,  when 
I  come  this  evening  to  thank  her  for  her  hospitality 
towards  my  young  relatives,  I  will  take  them  away  with 
me." 

Suddenly  one  of  the  folding  doors  which  separated 
the  salon  from  the  adjoining  apartment  opened  abruptly, 
and  Georgette,  pale  and  trembling,  presented  herself. 

"  Oh,  mademoiselle  !  "  exclaimed  she, 44  something  very 
extraordinary  is  going  on  in  the  street ! " 

44  What  do  you  mean  ?    Explain  yourself !  " 

44  I  had  just  let  my  dressmaker  out  by  the  little  side 
gate,  when  I  fancied  I  saw  some  very  ill-looking  men 
attentively  observing  the  walls  and  casements  of  the 
little  building  adjoining  the  pavilion,  as  though  they 
were  watching  some  one." 

44  Madame"  said  Agricola,  dejectedly,  44 you  see  I  was 
not  mistaken,  —  'tis  me  they  seek." 

44  What  say  you  ?  " 

44 1  imagined  I  was  watched  from  the  Rue  St.  Merry 
here,  —  there  is  now  no  further  doubt  on  the  subject. 
They  saw  me  enter  your  doors,  and  now  wish  to  arrest 
me ;  and  now  that  your  kind  sympathy  is  awakened 
for  my  mother,  and  that  I  have  nothing  to  fear  for  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon,  rather  than  be  the  cause 
of  the  slightest  annoyance  to  you  I  will  hasten  to  give 
myself  up." 

44  Have  a  care  !  "  said  Adrienne,  quickly  ;  44  liberty 
is  too  valuable  to  be  abandoned  voluntarily;  besides, 
Georgette  may  be  mistaken.  However  it  may  be,  let 
me  entreat  you  not  to  surrender  yourself ;  take  my 
advice,  and  avoid  an  arrest.    You  will  by  so  doing 

106 


THE  INTERVIEW. 


matenally  aid  the  steps  I  propose  to  take  to  ensure  your 
safety  and  it  has  always  appeared  to  me  that  Justice 
mvanably  seems  to  have  a  particular  fancy  for  keep W 
those  who  have  once  fallen  into  her  hands  '  "  P  8 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  Hebe,  also  entering  the  anart 
ment  with  an  alarmed  look  and  manner,  "  a  manTat 

wh  ther°fed  ^  ^tle  gat6;  he  ^nts  tTknow 
entefriittf3,man  f 6S4ed  in  a  blue  hl°™  did  not 

L  search  ofl  TJ  T  th&t  the  Person  he  j* 
ZZ1  K  amed  ASricola  Baudoin,  and  that  he  has 
something  of  great  importance  to  communicate  to  him  -  " 
mat  is  my  name,  certainly,"  said  Agricola  •  "but 
the  reSt  is  a  subterfuge  to  induce  me  to  go  to  him." 
"Evidently!"  said  Adrienne;  "and  we  must  opnose 

S»gi°  ?Tng-  And  vhat  an^er  did  you  make 
child,"  added  she,  addressing  Plorine  '  ' 

inqSfor!"1  ^  ** 1  W n0thing  °f  the  W 

afterto?^  right    And  What  beca™  ^  t"e  man 
"  He  went  away,  madame." 

"No  doubt  to  return  again  quickly,"  said  Agricola. 
*Z      V"  very  probable,"  resumed  Adrienne  ;  "there- 

here  7^™^/°™^  l°  the  of  *X 

ftere  a  few  hours.    I  am,  unfortunately,  obliged  to  go 

laTnSef *  ^  tbe  & 

baint-Dizier,  upon  some   very  important  affairs  for 

which  she  has  summoned  me  to  an  interview  it  s  quite 

to  do  To      off ;  Ti indeed' have  1  the  least-* 

to  do  so,  as  the  unexpected  intelligence  you  have  given 
a  stilfm  SW^  °f  ^-raf  Simon  mTkes 

tee  then  I  ^  °f  Sedng  the  Princess-  ^main 

Place  would  g'  y°U;  T°e  an^  attemPt  to  1^  the 
Ite  arrest  C°nVmCed'  be  f°1Wed  ^  Jour  imme- 

"  Madame,  I  pray  you  to  pardon  my  refusal  of  your 

*  Query,  Hebe  ?-  English  Translator. 
107 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


kind  shelter;  but,  again  I  repeat,  I  cannot  — I  ought 
not  to  accept  of  it." 
"  And  wherefore  ?  " 

"  The  men  who  feigned  having  a  message  to  deliver  to 
me  had  recourse  to  that  expedient,  doubtless,  to  draw 
me  into  their  power,  in  order  to  spare  the  necessity  of 
commencing  a  legal  search  for  me  on  your  premises; 
but,  foiled  in  this,  be  assured,  madame,  unless  I  go  forth 
they  will  enter,  and  not  for  worlds  would  I  have  you 
exposed  to  such  indignity.  Besides,  since  I  have  noth- 
ing to  fear  for  my  mother,  why  should  I  care  for  a 
prison  ?  " 

"Have  you  forgotten  the  pain,  the  uneasiness,  the 
terror,  your  imprisonment  would  occasion  your  mother  ? 
Is  this  nothing  ?  And  then  your  father,  and  the  poor 
sempstress,  whom  you  love  as  a  brother,  and  whose 
heart  and  fineness  of  feeling  you  said  but  now  resembled 
mine,  will  you  forget  them  ?  Oh,  no  !  Be  patient,  and 
you  will  spare  all  these  torments  to  those  you  love. 
Stay  quietly  here;  and  before  evening  I  feel  quite 
assured  that,  either  by  giving  the  necessary  guarantee, 
or,  by  other  means,  I  shall  be  able  to  free  you  from  all 
further  inquietude." 

«  But,  mademoiselle,  should  I  even  accept  your  gener- 
ous offer,  it  will  avail  me  little ;  I  shall  be  found  here." 

«  No,  you  will  not !  There  is  in  this  pavilion,  which 
formerly  served  for  many  strange  purposes,  a  hiding- 
place,  so  marvellously  contrived  as  to  elude  the  most 
diligent  research.  Georgette  will  conduct  you  to  it. 
You  will  find  it  a  very  comfortable  spot ;  you  may  even 
write  some  of  your  best  verses  for  me,  should  the  situa- 
tion inspire  you." 

«  What  kindness  !  "  exclaimed  Agricola.  "  How  can 
I  ever  hope  to  return  it?     How  can  I  ever  have 

merited  —  "  at* 

"  How  have  you  merited  it  ? "  interrupted  Adrienne  ; 
« I  will  tell  you.    Admit  that,  neither  by  your  excellent 

108 


THE  INTERVIEW. 


character  nor  present  position  you  had  power  to  interest 
me ;  admit,  also,  that  I  have  not  contracted  a  sacred  debt 
to  your  father,  for  the  tender  and  assiduous  cares  bestowed 
on  the  children  of  General  Simon,  my  relation;  but 
think,  at  least,  of  Lutine,  —  of  dear,  pretty  Lutine,"  said 
Adrienne,  pointing  smilingly  to  the  little  animal, "  whom 
you  restored  to  my  fond  affection.  But,  seriously,  if  I 
seem  to  treat  the  matter  lightly,' '  continued  this  strange 
and  wild  being,  "  it  is  because  I  know  that  there  exists 
not  the  least  danger  for  you,  and  because  my  spirits  are 
unusually  high  to-day ;  indeed,  I  know  not  when  I  have 
felt  so  happy.  Now,  then,  monsieur,  write  your  name 
and  address,  with  that  of  your  mother,  in  this  pocket- 
book,  and  be  as  quick  as  possible.  Then  follow  Geor- 
gette, and  be  sure  to  write  me  some  very  pretty  verses, 
if,  indeed,  you  do  not  feel  too  tired  of  your  confinement, 
which,  remember,  will  save  you  from  a  prison." 

While  Georgette  conducted  the  smith  to  his  hiding- 
place,  Hebe  brought  her  mistress  a  small,  gray  beaver 
hat  and  feathers,  for  Adrienne  had  to  cross  the  park  to 
arrive  at  the  grand  hotel  occupied  by  the  Princesse  de 
Saint-Dizier. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  this  scene,  Florine  entered 
mysteriously  into  the  chamber  of  Madame  Grivois,  prin- 
cipal attendant  on  the  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier. 

"  Well  ?"  inquired  Madame  Grivois  of  the  young  girl. 

"  Here  are  the  notes  I  have  taken  this  morning,"  said 
Florine,  giving  a  paper  to  the  duenna ;  "  fortunately,  I 
have  a  good  memory." 

"  At  what  o'clock,  precisely,  did  she  come  in  this 
morning  ? "  said  the  duenna. 

"  Who,  madame  ? " 

"  Mile.  Adrienne." 

"  She  has  not  been  out,  madame ;  we  attended  upon 
her  at  nine  o'clock,  when  she  took  her  bath." 

"Well,  then,  she  must  have  returned  before  nine 

109 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


o'clock,  after  being  out  all  night;  for,  most  certainly, 
she  did  reenter  these  walls  at  an  early  hour,  evidently 
after  having  been  abroad  all  night." 

Florine  regarded  Madame  Grivois  with  the  utmost 
astonishment. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  madame." 

"  Will  you  venture  to  assert  that  Mile.  Adrienne  did 
not  enter  the  park  this  morning,  about  eight  o'clock,  by 
the  little  side  gate  ?  Will  you  dare  to  utter  such  a 
falsehood?" 

"  I  had  been  very  poorly  all  yesterday,  madame,  and 
did  not  quit  my  bed  till  nine  o'clock  this  morning,  when 
I  assisted  Georgette  and  Hebe  to  attend  upon  mademoi- 
selle at  her  bath.  I  assure  you,  most  solemnly,  madame, 
that  I  am  utterly  ignorant  of  whatever  might  have 
occurred  previously." 

"  That  alters  the  case.  Well,  then,  be  sure  to  inquire 
the  particulars  of  what  I  have  just  mentioned  of  your 
two  companions,  who,  having  no  mistrust  of  you,  will 
tell  you  everything  you  wish  to  know." 

"  I  will,  madame." 

"  What  has  mademoiselle  been  doing  this  morning 
since  you  have  been  in  attendance  on  her  ? " 

"  Mademoiselle  dictated  a  letter  to  M.  Norval,  which 
Georgette  wrote,  and  I  asked  leave  to  take  charge  of  it, 
in  order  to  obtain  a  pretext  for  leaving  the  house,  and 
also  for  noting  down  what  I  had  observed." 

"  Good  !    And  where  is  this  letter  ?  " 

"  J erome  has  just  gone  out  with  it.  I  gave  it  to  him 
to  put  into  the  post." 

"  You  stupid  girl !  "  exclaimed  Madame  Grivois,  "  why 
could  you  not  have  brought  it  to  me  ?  " 

"  As  mademoiselle  dictated  her  letter,  according  to 
custom,  in  a  loud  voice,  that  Georgette  might  hear  the 
better,  I  knew  the  contents  of  it,  and  have  written  them 
in  my  paper  here." 

"  That  is  not  the  same  thing.    It  is  probable  that  it 

110 

/ 

[ 


THE  INTERVIEW. 


would  have  been  desirable  to  keep  back  that  letter  alto- 
gether;  the  princess  will  be  very  vexed  about  it." 

"  I  thought  I  was  acting  rightly  '  " 

"Bless  me!  I  know  well  enough  you  don't  want  for 
good-will,  and,  during  the  six  months  you  have  been 
here,  you  have  given  entire  satisfaction;  but  you  have 
committed  an  act  of  great  indiscretion  this  time  " 

«  Pray  excuse  it,  madame ;  believe  me,  what  I  do  is 

as vsg  srn  And' 80  saying' the  ^  «* 

Madame  Grivois  surveyed  her  a  few  instants  with  a 
hxed  gaze,  then  added,  in  a  cool,  sarcastic  tone  • 

"  Well,  then,  my  dear,  if  your  scruples  stand  in  the 
way,  your  best  plan  is  to  quit  your  post;  you  are  free  to 

be  scared  »  r  ^  P  ^  aSSU''ed'  y°U  °an  ™*  wdl 

.  "  J<«»  know,  madame,  perfectly  well,  that  I  am  not 
free,"  said  Florine,  blushing.  Tears  rose  to  her  eyes  as 
she  added,  "I  am  under  the  directions  and  control  or 
M.  Kodm,  who  placed  me  here." 

«  Then  what  is  the  use  of  all  these  sighs  and  regrets  ? " 
Spite  of  myself  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  remorse. 
Mademoiselle  is  so  kind,  so  good,  so  confiding." 

"Oh  she  is  perfection,  no  doubt,  but  you  have  some- 
thing else  to  do  than  to  ring  her  praises  in  my  ears. 
What  did  she  after  concluding  her  letter  ? " 

"  The  young  artisan  who  found  Lutine,  and  brought 
herback  yesterday,  came  to  ask  to  speak  with  mademoi- 

"  Is  he  still  with  her  ? " 

wi^tSe0  inet!e^°W '  *         fa  J'USt  &S  1  ™S  out 

"  You  must  contrive  to  find  out  what  this  person 
wanted  with  mademoiselle."  P 
"  I  will,  madame !  " 

«  Does  Mile,  de  Cardoville  appear  particularly  thought- 
ful, uneasy,  or  alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  her  approach- 
Ill 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


ing  interview  with  the  princess  ?  She  takes  so  little 
trouble  to  conceal  her  thoughts  that  you  cannot  help 
knowing." 

"  Mademoiselle  appeared  as  gay  as  usual,  and  even 
indulged  in  several  jokes." 

"  Ah,  she  jokes,  does  she  ? "  said  the  duenna,  adding, 
between  her  clenched  teeth,  but  in  a  tone  so  low  that 
Florine  could  not  catch  it,  "  those  laugh  best  who  laugh 
last !  Yes,  spite  of  her  hardihood  and  her  diabolical 
disposition,  she  would  tremble  and  implore  mercy,  did 
she  but  know  what  this  day  awaits  her." 

Then  addressing  herself  to  Florine,  she  said : 

"  Eeturn  to  the  pavilion,  and  avoid  these  fine  scruples 
with  which  you  are  troubled,  or  they  may  one  day  play 
you  a  trick  you  don't  expect.  Now  go,  and  remember 
what  I  say." 

"I  can  never  forget,  madame,  that  I  belong  to  M. 
Rodin ! " 

"  That  will  do.    Now  depart  for  the  present." 

Florine  quitted  the  grand  h6tel,  and,  crossing  the  park, 
regained  the  pavilion. 

Madame  Grivois  immediately  repaired  to  the  Princesse 
de  Saint-Dizier. 


112 


Part  IV. 
HOTEL  DE  SAINT- DIZIER 


113 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A  JESUITESS. 


The  elegance  and  magnificence  of  the  pavilion  in  the 

the  hotel  the  first  floor  of  which  was  inhabited  bv  the 
princess;  for  the  arrangements  of  the  ground  floor  were 
such  that  it  was  only  suited  for  fetes,  and  for  a  W 
time  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had  renounced  all  worldly 
splendours  and  the  gravity  of  her  domesticsT  aU  3 
and  dressed  m  black,  the  deep  silence  that  reigneS 

and  thTal ?  6Veryb0dy  S6emed  t0  taIk  in  a  wh&pe^ 
and  the  almost  monastic  regularity  of  this  immense 
mansion  gave  to  the  whole  establishment  of  the  Sess 
a  dull  and  severe  character.  princess 

A  man  of  the  world,  who  united  to  high  couraa-e  a 
remarkable  independence  of  character,  speakmg  o/the 
0  Zvllle  J  Saint-Dizier  CI*  -horn"  Adrifnne  de 
bi),tidWS  g°mg'  "        WOte'  to  fi«ht  a  g-t 

"That  I  might  not  have  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  for 
for  Z  7r'h Wh°  am  ne^6r  a  foo1  nor  a  coward,  have 
andt/ail?6  "       ^  an  act  «*  folly' 

And  this  man  spoke  sincerely. 

115 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


But  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had  not  all  at  once 
reached  this  high  degree  of  importance. 

A  few  words  are  necessary,  in  order  that  we  may 
clearly  explain  many  phases  of  the  life  of  this  dangerous, 
implacable  woman,  who,  by  her  affiliation  to  the  order, 
had  acquired  a  secret  and  formidable  power ;  for  there 
is  something  still  more  to  be  dreaded  than  a  Jesuit,  and 
that  is  a  Jesuitess  ;  and  when  a  certain  class  are  scruti- 
nised, we  learn  that  unhappily  there  exist  many  of  these 
"  affiliated  "  of  the  gown  more  or  less  short.1 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  who  in  her  youth  was  a 
splendid  woman,  had  been  during  the  latter  years  of  the 
Empire,  and  the  early  years  of  the  Restoration,  one  of 
the  most  fashionable  women  of  Paris,  with  a  stirring, 
energetic,  dashing,  domineering  spirit,  —  a  cold  heart 
with  a  warm  imagination.  She  had  been  much  devoted 
to  gallantry,  not  through  tenderness  of  feeling,  but  from 
love  of  intrigue,  loving  as  men  love  play,  from  the 
excitement  it  produces. 

Unfortunately,  such  had  been  the  constant  blindness 
and  carelessness  of  her  husband,  the  Prince  de  Saint- 
Dizier  (eldest  brother  of  the  Comte  de  Rennepont,  Duke 
de  Cardoville,  Adrienne's  father),  that  during  his  life  he 
never  said  a  word  which  could  be  interpreted  into  a 
suspicion  of  his  wife's  gaieties. 

Thus,  doubtless,  not  finding  enough  difficulties  in  her 
amours,  which  were  besides  so  very  little  thought  of  dur- 
ing the  Empire,  the  princess,  without  renouncing  her 
course  of  life,  and,  fancying  that  it  would  throw  a  little 
more  relish  and  freshness  into  her  cup  of  pleasure,  re- 
solved to  ally  with  it  the  zest  of  political  intrigue. 

To  attack  Napoleon,  to  dig  a  mine  under  the  feet  of 
Colossus,  would,  at  least,  promise  sensations  capable 
of  satisfying  the  most  exacting  character. 

For  some  time  all  went  on  marvellously  well ;  hand- 


1  The  lay  members  of  the  order  are  termed  Jesuits  of  the  Short  Gown 
(Robe  Courte). 

116 


A  JESUITESS. 


some  and  witty,  skilful  and  treacherous,  seductive  and 
perfidious,  surrounded  by  adorers  whom  she  excited  to 
fanaticism,  mingling  a  kind  of  ferocious  coquetry  in 
leading  men  on  to  risk  their  heads  in  serious  conspir- 
acies, the  princess  hoped  to  revive  the  Fronde,  and  had 
a  secret  correspondence,  which  she  carried  on  most 
vigorously  with  several  personages  of  great  foreign  influ- 
ence, and  well  known  for  their  hatred  to  the  emperor 
and  France.  It  was  this  that  led  to  her  first  epis- 
tolary relations  with  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny,  then  a 
colonel  in  the  Russian  service,  and  aide-de-camp  of 
Moreau. 

But  one  day  all  these  fine  plots  were  discovered,  and 
several  of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier's  cavaliers  were' sent 
to  Vincennes,  and  the  emperor,  who  might  have  taken 
a  terrible  revenge,  contented  himself  with  exiling  the 
princess  to  one  of  her  estates  near  Dunkirk. 

At  the  Restoration,  the  persecutions  which  Madame 
de  Saint-Dizier  had  suffered  for  the  good  cause  were  of 
service  to  her,  and  she  even  acquired  considerable  influ- 
ence in  spite  of  the  levity  of  her  conduct. 

The  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  having  taken  service  in 
France,  had  established  himself  there.  He  was  a  fas- 
cinating person,  and  soon  became  the  fashion ;  and  as 
he  had  corresponded  and  conspired  with  the  princess 
without  knowing  her,  these  circumstances  necessarily  led 
to  a  liaison  between  them. 

Unbridled  selfishness,  a  desire  for  the  excess  of  pleas- 
ure, intense  hatred,  strong  love  of  pride  and  despotism, 
and  that  base  sympathy  whose  treacherous  attraction 
brings  together  the  most  perverse  dispositions  without 
blending  them,  had  made  of  the  princess  and  the 
marquis  rather  two  accomplices  than  two  lovers. 

This  union,  based  on  egotistical  and  hateful  feelings, 
in  the  fearful  support  which  two  characters  of  this 
dangerous  stamp  could  lend  each  other  against  a  world 
m  which  their  spirit  of  intrigue,  gallantry,  and  slander 

117 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


had  made  them  many  enemies,  —  this  liaison  had  lasted 
up  to  the  period  when,  after  his  duel  with  General 
Simon,  the  marquis  had  entered  the  Seminary,  although 
the  motive  of  his  sudden  resolution  was  disclosed  to  no 
one. 

The  princess,  not  having  heard  the  hour  of  conversion 
yet  strike  for  her,  continued  her  worldly  course  with  a 
fierce,  jealous,  hateful  ardour,  for  she  found  her  best 
years  had  passed  away.  The  following  fact  will  show 
this  woman's  character : 

Still  agreeable,  she  resolved  to  conclude  her  worldly 
career  by  a  great  and  final  triumph,  just  as  a  celebrated 
actress  retires  from  the  stage  whilst  she  still  charms,  in 
order  to  cause  regrets  for  her  departure.  Desirous  of 
giving  this  last  consolation  to  her  vanity,  the  princess 
selected  her  victims  skilfully.  She  threw  her  eyes  on  a 
young  couple,  who  idolised  each  other,  and,  by  dint  of 
cunning  and  management,  she  carried  off  the  lover  from 
his  mistress,  a  lovely  creature  of  eighteen,  who  adored 
him. 

Having  assured  this  success,  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier 
quitted  the  world  with  all  the  eclat  of  her  triumph. 
After  many  lengthened  conferences  with  the  Abbe  Mar- 
quis d'Aigrigny,  then  a  famous  preacher,  she  quitted 
Paris  abruptly,  and  went  to  spend  two  years  on  her 
estate  near  Dunkirk,  taking  with  her  only  one  of  her 
attendants,  Madame  Grivois. 

When  the  princess  returned  no  one  could  recognise 
the  woman  once  so  frivolous,  gay,  and  dissipated.  The 
metamorphosis  was  complete,  extraordinary,  almost  fear- 
ful. The  Hotel  Saint-Dizier,  formerly  open  to  liveliness, 
fetes,  pleasures,  became  silent  and  austere.  Instead  of 
what  is  called  the  elegant  world,  the  princess  only 
received  at  her  abode  females  celebrated  for  their  piety, 
men  of  importance,  noted  for  the  extreme  severity  of 
their  religious  and  monarchical  principles.  She  ^  sur- 
rounded herself  particularly  with  certain  distinguished 

118 


A  JESUITESS. 


members  of  the  upper  clergy ;  a  congregation  of  females 
was  placed  under  her  patronage,  and  she  had  her  con- 
fessor, chapel,  almoner,  and  even  director,  but  this  latter 
was  only  in  partibus.  The  Marquis  Abbe  d'Aigrigny 
remained  really  her  spiritual  guide.  It  is,  perhaps, 
unnecessary  to  say  that  for  a  long  time  all  other 
liaison  had  ceased  between  them. 

The  sudden  conversion,  so  complete  and  so  very  much 
talked  about,  struck  vast  numbers  with  admiration  and 
respect ;  a  few,  more  penetrating,  smiled.  . 

One  example  amongst  a  thousand  will  testify  the 
frightful  power  which  the  princess  had  acquired  since 
her  affiliation,  and  it  will  also  prove  the  undermining, 
revengeful,  and  pitiless  character  of  the  woman  whom 
Adrienne  de  Cardoville  was  so  rashly  desirous  to  brave. 

Amongst  the  persons  who  smiled,  more  or  less,  at  the 
conversion  of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  were  the  young 
and  charming  couple  whom  she  had  so  cruelly  severed 
before  she  proudly  quitted  the  scene  of  her  worldly 
gallantries.  They  both,  more  in  love  than  ever,  had 
again  come  together,  after  the  passing  storm  that 
had  separated  them  for  a  time,  confining  their  ven- 
geance to  some  lively  pleasantries  on  the  conversion 
of  the  woman  who  had  worked  them  so  much  ill. 

Some  time  afterwards  a  terrible  fatality  weighed  down 
the  two  lovers. 

A  husband,  until  then  blind,  was  suddenly  enlightened 
by  anonymous  revelations.  A  fearful  discovery  followed. 
The  young  lady  was  lost. 

As  to  the  lover,  vague  reports,  not  established,  but  full 
of  concealments,  perfidiously  managed,  and  a  thousand 
times  more  odious  than  a  distinct  accusation  which  can 
at  once  be  established  or  destroyed,  were  spread  abroad 
about  him  with  so  much  pertinacity,  such  deep  cunning, 
and  in  so  many  different  ways,  that  his  best  friends  left 
him,  one  after  the  other,  submitting,  almost  uncon- 
sciously, to  the  slow  and  irresistible  influence  of  that 

119 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


incessant  and  confused  whispering  which  resolves  itself 
into  something  like  this  : 

«  Well !  you  know  .  .  .  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  Well,  they  do  say  very  unpleasant  things  about 
him." 

"  Really  —  and  what  sort  of  things  ? " 

"  I  can't  precisely  say,  but  there  are  very  nasty  stories 
afloat,  —  rumours  which  sadly  affect  his  honour." 

"  The  devil  there  are  —  that's  bad  indeed  !  That  ex- 
plains why  he  has  been  received  so  coolly  everywhere, 
lately." 

"  For  my  part,  I  intend,  in  future,  to  cut  him." 
"  And  so  shall  I,"  etc. 

This  world  is  so  formed  that  it  often  requires  no  more 
than  this  to  destroy  a  man,  whose  great  success  has 
created  envy.  And  so  it  was  with  the  man  of  whom  we 
speak.  The  unfortunate  gentleman,  seeing  the  gap  that 
was  forming  around  him,  and  feeling  the  ground  giving 
way  beneath  his  feet,  did  not  know  which  way  to  seek,  or 
how  to  lay  hands  on  the  invisible  enemy  whose  blows  he 
felt,  for  he  never  suspected  the  princess,  whom  he  had 
not  seen  since  his  adventure  with  her.  Desirous,  at  any 
sacrifice,  to  know  the  source  of  this  neglect  and  con- 
tempt, he  addressed  himself  to  an  old  friend,  who 
answered  him  in  a  manner  which  was  scornfully  eva- 
sive ;  the  other  took  fire,  and  demanded  satisfaction. 
His  adversary  said  to  him : 

"  Find  two  seconds,  acquaintances  of  yours  and  mine, 
and  I  will  go  out  with  you." 

The  unhappy  man  could  not  find  one. 

At  last,  forsaken  by  all,  and  unable  to  obtain  any 
clue  to  this  conduct,  suffering  immensely  from  the  fate  of 
his  wife,  who  was  lost  to  him,  he  went  mad  with  rage, 
anguish,  and  despair,  and  ended  his  existence. 

On  the  day  of  his  death,  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  said 
that  such  a  life,  so  shameless,  ought  to  have  such  an 

120 


A  JESUITESS. 


end ;  that  he  who  for  so  long  a  time  had  sported  with 
all  laws  human  and  divine,  could  only  terminate  his 
miserable  existence  by  the  last  crime,  —  suicide  !  And 
Madame  de  Saint-Dizier's  friends  repeated  and  carried 
about  these  terrible  words  with  an  air  contrite,  pious, 
anfuff  °\  conviction.  This  was  not  all :  hand  in  hand 
with  the  chastisement  came  the  recompense. 

Persons  who  remarked  could  not  help  seeing  that  the 
favourites  of  the  religious  coterie  of  Madame  de  Saint- 
-Uizier  reached  high  positions  with  singular  rapidity 
Virtuous  young  men,  religiously  attentive  to  the  duties 
laid  down  by  the  curates,  were  wedded  to  young;  rich 
orphans  of  the  "Sacred  Heart,"  who  were  reserved  as 
such  rewards;  poor  young  girls,  who,  too  late,  learned 
what  a  devotee  husband  really  is,  when  selected  and 
imposed  upon  them,  and  expiating  in  bitter  tears  the 
deceitful  favour  of  being  admitted  into  a  false  and  hypo- 
critical world,  in  which  they  were  alone  and  helpless, 
and  which  would  crush  them  if  they  dared  to  complain 
of  the  union  to  which  they  had  been  sentenced. 

In  the  salons  of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  there  were 
made  prefects,  colonels,  receivers-general,  deputies,  acade- 
micians, bishops,  peers  of  France,  from  whom,  in  return 
tor  the  vast  influence  used  in  their  behalf,  was  only 
required  unremitting  support  on  all  points  affecting  the 
Order;  to  communicate,  and  sometimes  in  public;  to 
swear  an  unrelenting  war  with  everything  that  was  im- 
pious or  revolutionary ;  and,  above  all,  to  correspond 
T  °n  different  Ejects  of  their  choice  ^ 

the  Abbe  d  Aigrigny ;  which  was  a  very  agreeable  amuse- 
ment, tor  the  abbs'  was  the  most  amiable,  most  witty 
and  above  all,  the  most  accommodating  man  in  the 
world. 

By  the  way,  we  will  give  a  historical  fact,  which 
only  required  the  fitter  revenging  irony  of  Moliere  or 
pascal  It  occurred  during  the  last  year  of  the  Restora- 
tion.   One  of  the  high  dignitaries  of  the  court,  a  firm 

121 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


and  independent  man,  did  not  practise,  as  the  good 
fathers  term  it,  —  that  is  to  say,  did  not  take  the  holy 
communion.  This  neglect,  when  considered  relatively 
to  his  high  position,  might  cause  injury,  by  its  bad 
example;  and  the  Abbe  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  was  de- 
spatched to  him.  He,  knowing  the  lofty  and  honourable 
mind  of  the  recusant,  felt  that,  if  by  any  means  he  could 
induce  him  to  practise,  the  effect  would  be  most  profit- 
able :  went  to  work  like  a  man  of  worldly  wisdom,  and 
knowing  whom  he  was  addressing  made  but  very  light 
of  the  "dogma,  the  religious  act  and  fact  itself,  but 
insisted  strongly  on  the  compliance  with  custom,  the 
salutary  example  which  such  a  step  must  produce  on  the 
public  mind. 

«  Monsier  T Abbe,"  said  the  individual  applied  to,  « I 
have  a  higher  respect  for  religion  than  you  yourself  have, 
and  I  should  think  it  an  infamous  juggle  to  communicate 
without  conviction." 

"  Oh,  come,  come,  unbending  man,  frowning  Alcestis  ! " 
said  the  Marquis  Abbe,  with  a  crafty  smile,  "  we  will 
reconcile  your  scruples  and  the  profit  you  will  derive, 
be  assured,  from  complying  with  my  advice.  We  will 
arrange  for  you  a  blank  communion  (line  communion 
blanche);  for,  after  all,  what  is  it  we  ask  — but  the 
appearance  of  the  thing  ? " 

Xow  a  communion  blanche  is  when  the  host  has  not 
been  consecrated. 

The  Abbe  Marquis  was  repulsed  with  indignation ;  but 
the  dignitary  was  dismissed  from  his  post. 

And  this  is  by  no  means  a  solitary  case.  Evil  to  those 
who  opposed  themselves  to  the  principles  and  interests 
of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  and  her  friends !  Sooner  or 
later,  directly  or  indirectly,  they  were  hit  in  the  most 
cruel  way  —  some  in  their  credit,  some  in  their  dearest 
relations*,  others  in  their  honour,  others  in  the  official 
situations  in  which  they  lived,  and  that  by  some  silent, 
concealed,  perpetual  action  —  by  some  terrible  and  mys- 

122 


A  JESUITESS. 


terious  dissolvent,  which,  unseen,  undermined  reputation, 
fortune,  position  the  most  solidly  based,  up  to  the  very 
moment  when  they  were  suddenly  and  for  ever  destroyed, 
in  the  midst  of  general  surprise  and  alarm. 

We  may  now  understand  how,  under  the  Restoration, 
the  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier  became  singularly  powerful 
and  dreaded.  At  the  revolution  of  July  she  formed  a 
fresh  system  of  alliance,  and  strange  to  say,  still  preserv- 
ing those  connections  of  family  and  society  with  several 
persons  very  faithful  to  the  worship  of  the  fallen  mon- 
archy, still  more  influence  and  power  were  attributed  to 
her.  Let  us  say,  too,  that  the  Prince  de  Saint-Dizier 
dying  childless  several  years  before,  his  personal  fortune, 
which  was  very  considerable,  returned  to  his  younger 
brother,  the  father  of  Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  who  had 
died  eighteen  months  since,  leaving  his  young  daughter 
the  last  and  only  representative  of  this  branch  of  the 
Rennepont  family. 

_  The  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier  was  awaiting  her 
niece  in  a  large  salon  hung  with  dark  green  damask ; 
and  the  furniture,  covered  in  the  same  way,  was  of 
carved  ebony,  as  was  also  a  bookcase  piled  with  pious 
productions. 

Some  sacred  paintings  and  a  large  crucifix  of  ivory, 
on  a  black  velvet  ground,  combined  to  give  this  apart- 
ment a  dull  and  conventual  appearance. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  seated  before  a  large  desk, 
was  sealing  several  letters,  for  she  had  a  very  extensive 
and  varied  correspondence.  Though  about  forty-five 
years  of  age,  she  was  still  handsome;  years  had  en- 
larged her  figure,  which  had  been  remarkably  elegant, 
and  was  yet  advantageously  displayed  under  her  high 
black  gown.  Her  cap  was  very  simple,  and,  ornamented 
with  gray  ribands,  displayed-  her  light  brown  hair  plaited 
in  thick  bandeaux. 

The  first  look  of  her  simple  and  dignified  air  was  very 
striking ;  and  in  vain  was  it  to  seek  in  this  countenance, 

123 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


then  full  of  regret  and  composure,  any  trace  of  the  agita- 
tion of  her  past  life.  To  see  her  so  grave  and  reserved, 
no  one  could  believe  her  to  be  the  heroine  of  so  many 
intrigues,  so  many  tender  adventures ;  and  the  more  so, 
if  by  chance  she  heard  any  remark  that  trenched  on 
levity,  this  woman's  face  (who  had  persuaded  herself 
that  she  had  become  a  mother  of  the  church)  expressed 
a  real  and  painful  astonishment,  which  soon  became  an 
air  of  offended  chastity  and  scornful  pity. 

However,  when  it  was  necessary,  the  smile  of  the 
princess  was  still  full  of  grace,  and  even  of  seducing 
and  irresistible  kindness.  Her  full  blue  eye  could, 
on  occasion,  beam  affectionately  and  encouragingly,  but 
if  her  pride  was  offended,  or  any  one  dared  to  cross  her 
will  or  injure  her  interests,  and  she  could  without  fear 
of  compromise  allow  her  resentment  full  scope,  then  her 
face,  habitually  placid  and  serious,  betrayed  a  cold  and 
implacable  wickedness. 

At  this  moment  Madame  Grivois  entered  the  cabinet 
of  the  princess,  holding  in  her  hand  the  report  which 
Florine  had  given  her  respecting  Adrienne's  morning's 
occupation. 

Madame  Grivois  had  been  for  twenty  years  in  the  ser- 
vice of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  and  she  knew  all  that  a 
femme  de  ehambre  can  and  ought  to  know  of  her  mis- 
tress, when  that  mistress  has  been  very  gay.  Was  she 
voluntarily  retained  by  the  princess,  —  she,  the  well- 
informed  witness  of  the  multiplied  errors  of  youth  ? 
This  was  not  known.  It  was  only  evident  that  Madame 
Grivois  enjoyed  great  privileges  with  the  princess,  and 
was  considered  by  her  rather  as  a  companion  than  a 
waiting-woman. 

"Here,  madame,  are  Florine's  notes,"  said  Madame 
Grivois,  handing  the  paper  to  the  princess. 

"  I  will  look  at  it  directly,"  replied  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier.  "  My  niece  is  coming  here ;  during  the  confer- 
ence at  which  she  will  be  present  you  will  conduct  into 

124 


A  JESUITESS. 


her  pavilion  a  person  who  will  soon  be  here,  and  who 
will  inquire  for  me." 
u  Yery  well,  madame." 

"  This  person  will  take  a  precise  inventory  of  every- 
thing in  Adrienne's  pavilion.  You  will  see  that  nothing 
is  omitted ;  this  is  of  the  greatest  importance." 

"  Yes,  madame  ;  but  if  Georgette  and  Hebe  refuse  ? " 

"  Make  yourself  easy ;  the  man  who  is  empowered  to 
take  this  inventory  has  a  power  which,  when  they  know, 
these  girls  will  not  dare  oppose  either  the  inventory  or 
any  other  measures  he  may  choose  to  take.  You  must 
not  fail,  when  you  accompany  him,  to  insist  on  certain 
facts  which  will  materially  tend  to  confirm  the  reports 
which  you  have  for  some  time  spread  about." 

"Make  yourself  easy,  madame;  those  reports  have 
already  acquired  the  consistency  of  truth." 

"  Well,  then,  soon  now  the  insolent  and  haughty 
Adrienne  will  be  subdued,  and  compelled  to  ask  pardon, 
—  and  of  me  too  —  " 

An  old  valet  de  chambre  opened  the  folding  doors,  and 
announced : 

"  M.  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny  !  " 

"  If  Mile,  de  Cardoville  comes,"  said  the  princess  to 
Madame  Grivois,  "  request  her  to  wait  an  instant." 

"Yes,  madame,"  said  the  duenna,  who  left  the  room 
with  the  valet  de  chambre. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  and  M.  d'Aigrigny  remained 
alone. 


125 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE  PLOT. 

The  Abbe*  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  was,  as  may  have  been 
conjectured,  the  personage  whom  we  have  already  seen 
in  the  Rue  Milieu-des-Ursins,  whence  he  had  set  out 
for  Rome  about  three  months  before. 

The  marquis  was  clothed  in  deep  mourning  and  with 
his  usual  elegance.  He  did  not  wear  a  cassock ;  but  his 
black  frock  coat,  which  fitted  accurately,  and  his  well- 
cut  waistcoat,  displayed  the  elegance  of  his  figure,  whilst 
his  black  cassimere  trousers  exhibited  to  advantage  his 
feet,  encased  in  patent-leather  boots.  The  tonsure  was 
lost  in  the  slight  baldness  which  had  commenced  at  the 
back  part  of  his  head.  Nothing,  in  fact,  in  his  garb 
revealed  the  priest,  unless  it  might  be  the  entire  want  of 
whiskers  or  moustache,  which  was  remarkable  in  so 
manly  a  countenance ;  his  freshly  shaved  chin  rested  on 
a  high  and  full  black  cravat,  tied  with  a  military  air, 
which  reminded  you  that  this  renowned  preacher,  at  this 
period  one  of  the  most  active  and  influential  chiefs  of 
the  Order,  had,  under  the  Restoration,  commanded  a 
regiment  of  hussars,  after  having  made  war  with  the 
Russians  against  France. 

Having  only  arrived  that  morning,  the  marquis  had 
not  seen  the  princess  since  his  mother,  the  Dowager- 
Marchioness  d'Aigrigny,  had  died  near  Dunkirk,  on  an 
estate  belonging  to  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  calling  in 
vain  on  her  son  to  soothe  the  bitter  anguish  of  her  part- 
ing hour ;  but  an  order,  which  had  compelled  the  Mar- 
quis d'Aigrigny  to  sacrifice  the  most  sacred  sentiments 

126 


THE  PLOT. 


of  nature,  had  arrived  from  Rome  suddenly,  and  he  had 
instantly  set  out  for  that  city,  not  without  a  display  of 
hesitation,  remarked  and  denounced  by  Rodin ;  for  the  love 
which  D'Aigrigny  had  for  his  mother  was  the  only  pure 
feeling  which  had  constantly  attended  him  through  life. 

When  the  valet  de  chambre  had  discreetly  retired  with 
Madame  Grivois,  the  marquis  approached  the  princess  with 
emotion,  and  extending  his  hand  said,  in  a  stifled  voice : 

"  Herminie,  have  you  concealed  nothing  from  me  in 
your  letters  ?  Did  not  my  mother  curse  me  in  her  last 
moments  ? " 

^  "  No,  Frederic,  I  assure  you,  no  !  She  was  most  de- 
sirous to  see  you,  but  her  mind  soon  wandered,  and  in 
her  delirium  she  called  for  you  constantly." 

"Yes,"  said  the  marquis,  bitterly;  "her  maternal 
instinct  told  her,  no  doubt,  that  my  presence  might, 
perhaps,  have  restored  her  to  life." 

"  I  entreat  you  to  forget  such  saddening  recollections. 
The  misfortune  is  irreparable !  " 

"  Once  again,  and  for  the  last  time,  tell  me,  and  tell 
me  truly,  was  not  my  mother  cruelly  affected  by  my 
absence  ?  She  could  not  suspect  that  a  more  imperious 
duty  could  summon  me  elsewhere  ? " 

"  No,  no,  I  tell  you !  Before  her  mind  wandered  she 
knew  that  there  had  not  yet  been  time  for  you  to  have 
reached  her.  All  the  sad  details  which  I  wrote  you  on 
the  subject  were  precisely  true ;  so,  pray  take  comfort." 

"  Yes,  my  conscience  ought  to  be  tranquil !  I  obeyed 
my  duty  in  sacrificing  my  mother !  And  yet,  in  spite  of 
myself,  I  could  not  attain  that  entire  detachment  of  feel- 
ing which  is  commanded  in  these  terrible  words  :  <  He 
who  hateth  not  his  father  and  his  mother,  and  even  his 
own  soul,  cannot  be  my  disciple.'  " 1 

«  r^^^6110^111!8  as.ser,t,ion'  we  find  the  following  commentary  in  the 
'Constitution  of  the  Jesuits  »  :  «  In  order  that  the  chartcter  of  this  language 
may  come  m  aid  of  the  feelings,  it  is  wise  to  accustom  oneself  to  say?  not  I 
have  parents,  or  I  have  brothers  ;  but  I  had  parents,  I  had  brothers  "  - 
General  Examination,  p.  29,  Constitutions.   Paulin,  Paris,  1843.  ULllt;zs' 

127 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

«  Doubtless,  Frederic,  these  sacrifices  are  most  painful  • 
but  in  exchange,  what  influence,  what  power ! " 

"That  is  true,"  said  the  marquis,  after  a  moment's 
silence.  «  What  would  not  one  sacrifice  to  reign  in  the 
shade  over  those  all-potent  of  the  earth  who  rule  in  open 
day  ?  My  recent  journey  to  Rome  has  given  me  fresh 
ideas  as  to  our  formidable  power." 

"Oh,  this  power  is  great  —  excessive ! "  said  the 
princess ;  «  and  the  more  so,  the  more  formidable,  and 
the  more  assured,  as  it  works  mysteriously  on  minds  and 
consciences." 

"  I  tell  you,  Herminie,"  said  the  marquis,  « I  have  had 
under  my  orders  a  splendid  regiment,  and  I  have  very 
often  experienced  the  deep  and  manly  delight  of  com- 
mand. At  my  voice  the  horsemen  were  moved,  the 
trumpets  sounded,  my  officers,  brilliant  with  golden  em- 
broidery, galloped  fiercely  to  repeat  my  orders ;  all  the 
brave,  ardent,  and  battle-scarred  soldiers  obeyed  me  as 
one  man,  on  any  signal,  and  I  felt  myself  proud  and 
powerful,  holding  as  I  did  in  my  hand  all  the  valour 
which  I  thus  controlled,  as  I  controlled  the  impetuosity 
of  my  war-horse.  Well,  now,  in  spite  of  adverse  times, 
1  feel  myself  a  thousand  times  fuller  of  action,  of  author- 
ity, strength,  and  audacity,  at  the  head  of  this  black 
and  silent  militia,  which  thinks,  wishes,  and  obeys,  me- 
chanically, according  to  my  will !  " 

"  You  reason  most  truly,  Frederic,"  replied  the  prin- 
cess, quickly.  «  When  we  reflect,  with  what  contempt 
do  we  think  upon  the  past !  Like  you,  I  often  compare 
the  present  with  it,  and  then  what  satisfaction  do  I  feel 
m  having  followed  your  counsels !  For,  after  all,  with- 
out you  I  should  have  played  but  that  miserable  and 
ridiculous  part  which  a  woman  must  always  go  through 
when  she  reaches  a  certain  age,  after  having  been  hand- 
some and  admired.  What  should  I  have  done  ?  I  might 
m  vain  have  attempted  to  attract  again  around  me  a  self- 
ish and  ungrateful  world,  —  those  coarse  men,  who  only 

128 


THE  PLOT. 


think  of  women  as  long  as  they  are  made  subservient  to 
their  passions  or  natter  their  vanity;  or  I  might  still 
have  had  left  to  me  the  resource  of  keeping  up  what  is 
called  an  agreeable  house  —  for  others  —  yes,  and  given 
fetes  ;  that  is,  I  might  have  received  a  crowd  of  indiffer- 
ent persons,  and  have  created  a  rendezvous  for  young 
lovers,  who,  following  each  other  from  room  to  room, 
only  come  to  you  that  they  may  be  together,  —  an  agree- 
able position  assuredly,  that  you  may  collect  together  a 
giddy,  laughing,  loving  set,  who  consider  the  luxury  and 
eclat  with  which  you  surround  them  as  embellishments 
due  to  their  gay  and  impertinent  amours." 

There  was  so  much  severity  in  the  words  of  the  prin- 
cess, and  her  countenance  expressed  so  much  hate  and 
envy,  that  the  violent  bitterness  of  her  regret  escaped 
her  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  continued  ;  "  thanks  to  you,  Frederic, 
after  a  final  and  brilliant  triumph,  I  broke  from  that 
world  which  else  would  so  soon  have  abandoned  me! 
Yes,  one  so  long  its  idol  and  its  queen  !  I  have  changed 
my  kingdom,  and  instead  of  dissipated  men,  whom  I  ruled 
over  because  my  frivolity  was  superior  to  their  own,  I  see 
myself  now  encircled  by  men  of  first-rate  importance, 
feared  and  all-powerful,  many  of  whom  govern  the  state 
itself.  I  am  as  much  devoted  to  them  as  they  are  devoted 
to  me.  It  is  now  only  that  I  enjoy  the  happiness  of  which 
I  had  always  dreamed  ;  I  have  an  active  part,  a  powerful 
influence  in  the  first  interests  of  the  world ;  I  have  been 
initiated  into  the  most  important  secrets  ;  I  have  been 
enabled  to  strike  heavily  and  surely  all  who  have  railed 
at  or  hated  me  ;  I  have  been  able  to  raise  beyond  their 
hopes  those  who  have  served,  respected,  and  obeyed  me." 

"And  there  are  madmen,  blind  creatures,  who  think 
we  are  crushed  because  we  have  to  contend  against  an 
adverse  period  !  "  said  M.  d'Aigrigny  with  disdain ;  «  as 
if  we  were  not  everywhere  prepared  and  organized  for 
the  struggle ;  as  if,  in  the  struggle,  we  should  not  pour 

129 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


forth  new  power  and  fresh  activity !  No  doubt  the  times 
are  adverse,  but  they  will  become  better.  You  know  it 
is  almost  certain  that  in  a  few  days,  the  thirteenth  of 
February,  we  shall  have  at  our  disposal  a  means  of  action 
sufficiently  potent  to  reestablish  our  influence,  which 
has  been  momentarily  shaken." 

"Assuredly  !  The  affair  of  the  medals  is  so  important !  " 

"  I  should  not  have  made  so  much  haste  to  return 
hither,  but  from  my  anxiety  to  be  present  at  what  may 
be  for  us  so  great  an  event." 

"  You  have  learnt,  no  doubt,  the  singular  fatality 
which  has  so  nearly  destroyed  all  our  plans,  so  ably 
conceived  and  laid  ? " 

"  Yes,  immediately  I  arrived  I  saw  Rodin." 

"  Who  told  you  —  " 

"  The  inconceivable  facts  of  the  arrival  of  the  Indian 
and  General  Simon's  daughters  at  the  Chateau  de  Car- 
doville,  after  the  double  shipwreck,  which  has  cast  them 
on  the  coast  of  Picardy,  when  we  believed  the  young 
girls  at  Leipsic  and  the  Indian  at  Java,  for  our  precau- 
tions were  so  carefully  taken.  Really,"  added  the  mar- 
quis, with  vexation,  "  it  would  almost  seem  that  some 
invisible  power  protects  this  family  !  " 

"  Fortunately,  Rodin  is  a  man  of  resources  and  activ- 
ity," resumed  the  princess.  "  He  came  here  last  night, 
and  we  had  a  long  conference." 

"  And  the  result  of  your  conference  is  excellent.  The 
soldier  will  be  sent  away  for  a  couple  of  days,  the  con- 
fessor of  his  wife  is  fully  instructed,  and  the  rest  will 
work  by  itself.  To-morrow  these  young  girls  will  not 
give  us  further  cause  for  alarm.  The  Indian  only  is 
left,  and  he  is  at  Cardoville,  dangerously  hurt,  so  that 
we  shall  have  time  to  act." 

«  But  that  is  not  all,"  replied  the  princess ;  "  there  are 
besides,  without  including  my  niece,  two  persons  who, 
for  the  sake  of  our  interests,  must  not  be  in  Paris  on  the 
thirteenth  of  February." 

130 


THE  PLOT. 


"  Yes>  M-  Hardy !  But  his  dearest  and  most  intimate 
friend  betrays  him,  and  by  him  we  have  drawn  M. 
Hardy  into  the  south,  whence  it  is  impossible  he  can 
return  before  a  month.  As  to  that  vagabond  wretch,  the 
workman  they  call  Couche-tout-Nud  —  " 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  the  princess,  with  an  air  of  offended 
modesty. 

"  That  fellow  will  not  trouble  us.  Then  there  is  but 
Gabriel  on  whom  rests  our  vast  but  certain  hope;  he 
will  not  be  left  alone  for  one  moment  until  the  impor- 
tant day.  All,  therefore,  seems  to  promise  success,  and 
it  is  for  us  a  question  of  life  or  death  ;  for,  on  my  re- 
turn, I  stopped  at  Forle,  where  I  saw  the  Duke  d'Orbano, 
whose  influence  over  the  king,  his  master,  is  all-power- 
ful —  absolute ;  so  entirely  has  he  got  him  into  his  own 
hands.  It  is  with  the  duke  alone,  therefore,  that  there 
is  any  occasion  to  treat." 
"  Well !  " 

"  D'Orbano  declares  he  can  (and  I  am  sure  of  his 
power)  assure  to  us  a  legal  existence,  strongly  protected 
m  his  master's  states,  with  the  exclusive  privilege  of 
educating  the  rising  generation.  By  the  aid  of  such 
advantages  we  only  require  two  or  three  years'  es- 
tablishment in  that  country  to  be  so  firmly  rooted 
that  the  Duke  d'Orbano  must,  in  his  turn,  come 
to  us  for  protection;  but,  at  this  moment,  he  is  all- 
potent,  and  demands  one  absolute  condition  for  his 
services." 

"  And  this  condition?" 

"  Five  millions  (200,000Z.)  ;  and  an  annual  pension 
of  a  hundred  thousand  francs  (4,000?.)." 
"  That  is  a  large  sum." 

"  Yet  it  is  but  little  when  we  reflect  that,  let  us  only 
set  foot  in  that  country,  we  should  soon  work  that  sum 
back  again ;  which,  after  all,  is  hardly  the  eighth  part 
of  what  the  medals,  properly  managed,  will  ensure  to  the 
Order." 

131 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"True  — nearly  forty  millions  (1,600,0007.)"  said 
the  princess,  with  a  reflective  air. 

"  Then  the  five  millions,  which  D'Orbano  asks,  will  be 
hut  an  advance,  —  it  will  be  returned  by  voluntary  dona- 
tions ;  because,  by  the  increase  of  influence  which  the 
education  of  the  children  will  give  us,  we  shall  have  our 
hold  on  the  families.  Oh,  those  who  govern  do  not 
see  when  we  are  working  our  interests  we  are  working 
theirs,  and  that,  in  abandoning  to  us  education,  which 
we  desire  above  all  things,  we  form  and  fashion  the 
people  to  that  mute  and  uncomplaining  condition,  to 
the  submission  of  the  serf  and  the  brute,  who  assure  the 
quiet  of  states  by  the  passiveness  of  mind.  They  do  not 
see  that  this  blind  and  passive  obedience,  which  we 
demand  of  the  masses,  serves  as  a  bridle  to  lead  and 
master  them ;  whilst  we  ask  from  the  f ortunates  of  the 
world  those  appearances  only  which  ought,  if  they  had 
but  a  knowledge  of  their  corruption,  to  give  additional 
stimulant  to  their  pleasures." 

"It  is  no  matter,  Frederic,"  replied  the  princess; 
"as  you  say,  the  important  day  is  at  hand,  and  with 
nearly  forty  millions,  which  the  Order  may  secure  by 
the  happy  result  of  the  affair  of  the  medals,  we  may, 
assuredly,  dare  great  things.  As  a  lever  in  your  hands, 
such  a  means  of  action  would  have  incalculable  effect,  at 
a  time  when  everything  and  everybody  are  bought  and 

sold."  , 

"  But,  then,"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  with  a  thoughtful 
air,  "it  is  of  no  use  to  disguise  the  fact.  Here  the 
reaction  continues,  —  the  example  of  France  is  every- 
thing. We  can  hardly  maintain  ourselves  m  Austria 
and  Holland,  — the  resources  of  the  Order  diminish 
daily.  It  is  a  moment  of  crisis,  but  it  may  be  length- 
ened. Thus,  thanks  to  this  enormous  resource,  the 
affair  of  the  medals,  we  may  not  only  contend  against 
chances,  but  establish  ourselves  even  more  firmly.  Thanks 
to  the  offer  of  the  Duke  d'Orbano,  which  we  decide  on 

132 


THE  PLOT. 


accepting;  and  then,  from  this  invincible  centre,  our 
radiations  will  be  incalculable.  Ah,  the  thirteenth  of 
February,"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  shaking  his  head.  «  That 
day  may  become  an  epoch  as  eventful  to  our  power  as 
that  of  the  council,  which  in  a  manner  gives  fresh  life." 

"And,  therefore,"  pursued  the  princess,  "must  we 
spare  nothing  to  succeed,  at  any  price.  Of  the  six 
persons  you  have  cause  to  fear,  five  either  now  are,  or 
will  be,  in  no  condition  to  oppose  you ;  there  only  re- 
mains my  niece,  and  you  well  know  I  merely  awaited 
your  arrival  to  take  definitive  measures.  All  my  plans 
are  arranged,  and  this  very  morning  we  will  commence 
putting  them  into  practice." 

"Have  your  suspicions  increased  since  you  last 
wrote  ? 

"  They  have ;  and  I  am  now  quite  convinced  she 
knows  a  great  deal  more  than  she  affects  to  do." 

"  Such  has  always  been  my  opinion,  and  therefore, 
six  months  ago,  I  persuaded  you  to  adopt  the  measures 
you  have  done,  in  order  to  provoke  her  to  demand  her 
emancipation  from  all  control;  the  consequences  of 
which  have  rendered  it  easy  for  us  now  to  take  steps 
wnicn  would  otherwise  have  been  impossible." 

"At  length,  then,"  exclaimed  the  princess,  with  an 
expression  of  bitter  and  rancorous  exultation,  «  at  length 
this  proud  spirit  shall  be  broken,  and  I  be  avenged  for 
the  insolent  sarcasms  I  have  been  compelled  to  bear  in 
silence,  lest  I  should  retort  in  such  a  way  as  to  excite 
her  suspicions.  Yes,  to-day  will  see  me  able  to  pay 
back  all  I  have  been  obliged  to  endure  from  that  impru- 
dent and  ungovernable  girl,  whose  daily  and  hourly  task 
nyeemed  to  incense  and  irritate  me  still  more  against 

"  Those  who  offend  you,  offend  me  likewise  ;  you  know 
well  my  hatred  and  revenge  ever  accompany  yours." 

"And  you  !   How  frequently  have  you  been  made  the 
subject  ot  her  bitmg  jests  and  poignant  raillery ! " 

133 


THE  WANDERING  JEW, 


"  My  impulses  rarely  deceive  me,"  said  the  marquis, 
in  a  harsh  and  abrupt  tone,  "  and  I  feel  certain  that 
girl  will  one  day  prove  a  dangerous,  ay,  most  dangerous, 
enemy  to  us." 

"  Therefore  are  we  more  imperatively  called  upon  to 
put  it  out  of  her  power  to  harm  us,"  replied  Madame  de 
Saint-Dizier,  fixing  her  eyes  with  a  steady  gaze  on  the 
marquis. 

"  Have  you  seen  Doctor  Baleinier,  and  the  guardian, 
M.  Tripeaud  ?  "  inquired  he. 

"  They  will  be  here  this  morning.  I  have  well  pre- 
pared them." 

"  Did  you  find  them  disposed  freely  to  enter  into  your 
wishes  against  Adrienne  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  so  ;  and  one  very  excellent  thing  is,  that  my 
niece  entertains  not  the  slightest  mistrust  of  the  doctor, 
who  has  always  possessed  her  entire  confidence.  Besides 
this,  a  most  singular,  and  to  me  wholly  inexplicable  cir- 
cumstance, has  just  come  to  aid  us." 

"  What  mean  you  ? " 

"  This  morning  Madame  Grivois  went,  according  to 
my  orders,  to  remind  Adrienne  that  I  expected  her 
about  midday  upon  important  business ;  as  she  ap- 
proached the  pavilion,  Madame  Grivois  either  saw,  or 
thought  she  saw,  Mile,  de  Cardoville  return  home  by  the 
small  garden  gate," 

"  Can  this  be  possible  !  "  exclaimed  the  marquis  ; 
"  have  you  absolute  proofs  of  this  strange  fact  ? " 

"  At  present  I  have  no  further  corroboration  than  the 
voluntary  testimony  of  Madame  Grivois  ;  but  now  I  think 
of  it,"  said  the  princess,  taking  up  a  paper  which  lay 
beside  her,  "  here  is  the  daily  report  drawn  up  by  one 
of  Adrienne's  waiting-women." 

"  She  whom  Rodin  contrived  to  place  about  your 
niece  ? " 

"  The  same  ;  and,  as  this  creature  is  wholly  dependent 
on  Rodin,  she  has  hitherto  served  us  most  faithfully ; 

134 


THE  PLOT. 


perhaps  we  shall  find  in  this  paper  some  confirmation  of 
what  Madame  Grivois  affirms  she  beheld." 

Scarcely  had  the  princess  commenced  reading  the 
contents  of  the  journal,  than  she  suddenly  exclaimed, 
in  a  tone  of  alarm  : 

"  What  do  I  see  ?  This  Adrienne  must  be  some  fiend 
in  human  shape  !  " 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? " 

"  The  steward  of  Cardoville,  writing  to  my  niece  to 
implore  her  protection,  informs  her  of  the  young  Indian 
prince  being  at  the  castle.  She  is  well  aware  of  his 
relationship  to  her,  and  despatches  a  letter  forthwith 
to  her  old  instructor  in  drawing,  Norval,  desiring  him  to 
set  out  post  for  Cardoville,  in  order  to  bring  back  Prince 
Djalma ;  he  who,  at  all  risks,  and  at  any  cost,  must  be 
kept  away  from  Paris." 

The  marquis  turned  ghastly  pale,  as  he  said  to  Madame 
de  bamt-Dizier, "  If  this  be  not  some  fresh  whim  of  your 
capricious  niece,  the  eagerness  and  anxiety  she  evinces 
to  convey  this  relation  from  Cardoville  here  proves  that 
she  knows  even  more  than  you  have  ever  dared  to 
suspect  her  of.  There  can  be  no  further  doubt  but 
that  she  is  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  whole  affair 
ot  the  medals,  — she  may  ruin  everything;  beware, 
beware ! "  ' 

"  Then,"  returned  the  princess,  resolutely,  «  there  is 
no  further  time  for  hesitation.  We  must  proceed  even 
to  greater  extremities  than  we  first  proposed.  Let  all  be 
finished  this  morning." 

"  That  is  scarcely  possible  !  " 

"  Pardon  me,"  returned  the  princess,  impatiently,  "  all 
things  are  possible  to  determined  minds.  The  doctor 
and  M.  Tripeaud  are  with  us,  and  will  support  us  in 
everything." 

<  "  Although  equally  confident  as  yourself  of  the  read- 
iness and  zeal  of  the  doctor  and  M.  Tripeaud  in  this  busi- 
ness,  said  the  marquis,  thoughtfully,  «  yet  I  think  we 

135 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


must  not  touch  upon  the  question  of  executing  our 
designs  to-day,  which  might  alarm  them  if  too  hastily 
explained,  until  we  have  had  our  proposed  conference 
with  your  niece.  Spite  of  her  cunning,  we  shall  easily 
manage  to  elicit  from  her  what  we  want  to  know.  And, 
if  our  suspicions  be  correct,  if  she  really  knows  that 
which  it  would  be  so  unsafe  and  dangerous  she  should 
be  acquainted  with,  then  there  must  be  no  further  tem- 
porising, —  not  an  hour's  delay,  —  all  hesitation  must  be 
at  an  end ;  we  have  no  choice." 

"  Have  you  apprised  the  man  we  were  speaking  of  ? " 
said  the  princess,  after  a  short  silence. 

"  He  will  be  here  about  twelve  o'clock ;  he  is  sure  not 
to  be  later." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  we  can  perfectly  well  accom- 
plish our  purpose  here  ;  this  room  is  only  separated  from 
the  small  salon  by  a  small  door,  covered  with  a  curtain, 
which  can  be  let  down,  and  your  man  can  easily  hide 
behind  it." 

"Excellent!" 

"  He  is  entirely  to  be  depended  upon,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Quite,  quite  so !  We  have  frequently  employed  him 
under  similar  circumstances,  and  have  ever  found  him 
discreet,  clever,  and  useful !  " 

At  this  instant  some  one  tapped  lightly  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  princess. 

"  Doctor  Baleinier  wishes  to  know  if  Madame  la 
Princesse  can  see  him  ? "  inquired  the  valet  de  chambre, 
who  presented  himself. 

"  Certainly  !    Request  him  to  walk  in." 

"There  is  also  a  person  M.  l'Abbe  desired  to  meet 
here  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  whom,  according  to  his 
orders,  I  have  desired  to  wait  in  the  oratory." 

"  It  is  the  man  we  were  speaking  of,"  said  the  mar- 
quis to  the  princess ;  "  we  must  introduce  him  here  at 
once,  —  it  would  be  quite  useless  for  Doctor  Baleinier 
to  see  him  just  at  present." 

136 


THE  PLOT. 

"  Bring  the  person  you  have  shown  into  the  oratory 
here,"  said  the  princess;  "then,  when  I  ring,  you  will 
request  Doctor  Baleinier  to  walk  in ;  and  should  Baron 
Tripeaud  call,  conduct  him  to  us  at  once.  After  that,  I 
am  not  at  home  to  any  person  but  Mile.  Adrienne." 


137 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  ENEMIES  OF  ADRIENNE. 

The  valet  de  chambre  of  the  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier 
soon  returned  with  a  little  pale-faced  man,  dressed  in 
black  and  wearing  spectacles ;  he  bore  under  his  arm  a 
long  case,  covered  with  black  leather. 

"  M.  l'Abbe*,  I  presume,  has  explained  to  you  what 
you  will  have  to  do  ? " 

"  Yes,  madame,"  answered  the  individual  addressed, 
in  a  small,  shrill  voice,  bowing  most  profoundly. 

"  Will  this  apartment  be  suitable  to  your  purpose  ? 99 
inquired  the  princess,  as  she  conducted  him  to  an  adjoin- 
ing chamber,  separated  from  the  salon  only  by  the  masked 
door. 

"It  will  do  extremely  well,  Madame  la  Princesse," 
replied  the  man  with  the  spectacles,  with  another  and 
still  lower  bow. 

"  You  may  then  remain  in  this  apartment.  I  will 
come  and  inform  you  when  you  are  wanted." 

"  I  shall  wait  your  commands,  Madame  la  Princesse." 

"  And  be  sure  to  attend  carefully  to  the  instructions 
I  have  given  you,"  added  the  marquis,  unfastening  the 
curtains  which  hung  before  the  opening. 

The  thick  material  of  which  they  were  composed  fell 
heavily  to  the  ground,  and  completely  concealed  the 
little  personage  in  spectacles. 

The  princess  rang  the  bell,  and  almost  immediately  a 
servant  announced  Doctor  Baleinier,  a  most  important 
person  in  this  history. 

138 


THE  ENEMIES  OF  ADRIENNE. 


Doctor  Baleinier  was  about  fifty  years  of  age,  of  middle 
stature,  stout,  and  with  a  round,  rosy,  shining  counte- 
nance ;  his  smooth  gray  hair,  which  he  wore  somewhat 
long,  was  parted  down  the  middle  of  his  forehead,  and 
lay  flat  on  his  temples.  He  continued  the  old  custom 
ot  black  satin  breeches,  because,  perhaps,  he  had  a  good 
leg;  whilst  he  had  gold  buckles  at  his  knees  and  in  his 
bright  morocco  leather  shoes.  He  wore  a  black  waist- 
coat, coat,  and  cravat,  which  gave  him  somewhat  of  a 
clerical  air;  and  his  white  plump  hand  was  half  con- 
cealed by  a  plaited  ruffle  of  fine  cambric,  and  the 
sedateness  of  his  countenance  did  not  preclude  its  nicety. 

His  countenance  was  smiling  and  intelligent;  his 
small  gray  eye  bespoke  unusual  sagacity  and  penetra- 
tion ;  and  Doctor  Baleinier,  a  man  of  the  world  and  of 
pleasure,  a  refined  eater,  a  witty  talker,  attentive  even 
to  obsequiousness,  supple,  ready,  and  insinuating,  was 
one  of  the  oldest  of  the  creatures  of  the  coterie  which 
the  Prmcesse  de  Saint-Dizier  had  drawn  around  her. 

Thanks  to  that  all-powerful  support  of  which  the 
world  did  not  know  the  source,  the  doctor,  who  had 
been  long  unnoticed  in  spite  of  his  real  skill  and  indubita- 
ble merit,  found  himself  under  the  Restoration  pleasantly 
endowed  with  two  lucrative  medical  sinecures,  and,  by 
degrees,  with  a  large  list  of  patients;  but  we  must  add 
that,  once  under  the  patronage  of  the  princess,  the  doctor 
began  suddenly  to  be  most  scrupulous  in  his  religious 
duties,  —  took  the  communion  once  a  week,  and  publicly 
at  the  high  mass  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas. 
.  ,At  *he  end  of  a  year  a  certain  class  of  invalids, 
induced  by  the  example  and  enthusiasm  of  Madame  de 
Samt-Dizier's  coterie,  would  not  hear  of  any  medical 
man  but  Doctor  Baleinier,  and  his  list  of  patients  soon 
swelled  to  a  large  number. 

We  may  easily  judge  of  calls  for  the  Order  to  have 
amongst  its  outdoor  members  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
practitioners  of  Paris. 


139 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


A  physician  has  also  his  priesthood. 

Admitted  at  all  hours  into  the  most  secret  intimacy 
of  families,  a  physician  knows,  guesses,  and  can  do 
many  things. 

Like  the  priest,  he  has  the  care  of  the  sick  and  dying. 

And  where  he  who  is  charged  with  the  health  of  the 
body  and  he  who  is  charged  with  the  health  of  the 
soul  understand  each  other,  and  work  mutually  for  one 
common  interest,  there  is  nothing  (at  least  the  excep- 
tions are  very  few)  which  they  cannot  obtain  from  the 
weakness  or  the  fear  of  the  dying ;  not  for  themselves, 
for  the  laws  deny  that,  but  for  the  third  portions,  belong- 
ing, more  or  less,  to  that  most  convenient  class,  the  men 
of  straw. 

Doctor  Baleinier  was  thus  one  of  the  most  active  and 
valuable  external  members  of  the  whole  congregation  of 
Paris. 

When  he  entered  he  kissed  the  hand  of  the  princess 
with  most  perfect  gallantry. 

"  Always  punctual,  my  dear  M.  Baleinier." 

"  Always  happy,  always  most  desirous  to  attend  your 
commands,  madame."  Then  turning  to  the  marquis, 
whom  he  shook  heartily  by  the  hand,  he  added : 

"  At  last  we  have  you  again !  Do  you  know  that 
three  months  is  a  very  long  time  for  your  friends  —  " 

"  The  time  is  not  so  long  for  those  who  depart  as  for 
those  who  remain,  my  dear  doctor.  Well,  the  great  day 
has  come  at  last ;  Mile,  de  Cardoville  is  coming  here 
directly." 

"  I  must  say  that  I  feel  some  uneasiness,"  said  the 
princess.    "  If  she  had  any  suspicion  —  " 

"  That  is  impossible,"  said  M.  Baleinier ;  "  we  are  the 
best  friends  in  the  world.  You  know  that  Mile.  Adri- 
enne  has  always  had  the  greatest  confidence  in  me. 
The  day  before  yesterday  we  laughed  together  excess- 
ively, and  I  made,  according  to  my  usual  habit,  some 
remarks  on  her  somewhat  eccentric  mode  of  life,  and  on 

140 


THE  ENEMIES  OF  ADRIENNE. 


the  singular  turn  of  ideas  in  which  I  found  her  on  that 
occasion." 

"  Pray,  M.  Baleinier,  do  not  fail  particularly  to  insist 
on  this  circumstance,  however  trifling  it  may  seem," 
said  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  with  a  significant  glance 
at  the  marquis. 

"  But  which  is,  indeed,  of  great  importance,"  replied 
he. 

"  Mile.  Adrienne  replied  to  my  observations,"  an- 
swered the  doctor,  "  by  laughing  at  me  in  the  most 
lively,  sprightly  manner  imaginable,  for  I  must  own  this 
young  lady  possesses  the  most  brilliant,  sparkling  wit  of 
any  female  of  my  acquaintance." 

"  Doctor,  doctor ! "  interrupted  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier, 
"  none  of  this  weakness  from  you,  I  beg !  " 

Instead  of  any  immediate  attention  to  this  remark, 
M.  Baleinier  took  his  gold  snuff-box  from  the  pocket  of 
his  waistcoat,  opened  it,  and,  helping  himself  to  a  pinch 
of  snuff,  continued,  while  slowly  inhaling  it,  to  regard 
the  princess  with  an  air  so  significant  and  satisfactory  as 
seemed  to  have  the  effect  of  setting  her  quite  at  ease. 

"  My  weakness,  madame  !  "  said  M.  Baleinier,  at  length, 
while  gently  shaking  off  with  his  white  hand  a  few  grains 
of  snuff  which  had  fallen  on  the  folds  of  his  shirt  front ; 
"  have  I  not  done  myself  the  honour  to  step  forward  and 
voluntarily  proffer  my  aid  in  the  difficult  position  in  which 
you  are  now  placed  ?" 

"  And  you  are  the  only  living  creature  who  really  could 
be  of  service  "  added  M.  d'Aigrigny. 

"  Thus  you  see,  then,  madame,"  resumed  the  doctor, 
"  I  am  not  a  weak  person,  since  I  perfectly  comprehend 
the  character  and  extent  of  the  part  you  wish  me  to  play ; 
but  you  have  assured  me  that  such  immense  interests  are 
at  stake  —  " 

"  Immense,  indeed  !  "  rejoined  M.  d'Aigrigny  ;  "  an 
interest  beyond  all  calculation  !  " 

"  With  that  impression  on  my  mind,  I  did  not  allow 

141 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


myself  to  hesitate  for  a  moment,"  replied  M.  Baleinier. 
"  Be  quite  easy,  I  pray  you,  and  allow  me,  as  a  man  of 
taste  and  judgment,  to  admire  and  do  justice  to  the 
brilliant  and  remarkable  powers  of  Mile.  Adrienne's 
mind,  and  when  the  moment  for  acting  arrives,  you  will 
judge  how  far  my  admiration  interferes  with  my  duties 
to  you." 

"  That  moment  may  be  nearer  than  we  suppose,"  said 
Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  exchanging  a  look  with  M. 
d'Aigrigny. 

"  Well,  I  am  always  ready,"  answered  the  doctor.  "  I 
can  depend  upon  myself  as  far  as  I  am  concerned ;  I 
only  wish  I  felt  equally  tranquil  as  regards  other 
matters." 

"  Is  not  your  Maison  de  Santi  in  as  first-rate  celebrity 
as  it  is  possible  for  such  an  establishment  to  be  ? "  said 
Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  with  a  half  smile. 

<<  As  for  that,"  replied  the  doctor, "  I  have  only  to  com- 
plain of  the  number  of  my  patients  increasing  beyond  my 
powers  of  accommodating  them.  No,  that  is  not  the 
subject  of  my  uneasiness ;  but,  while  we  are  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  Mile.  Adrienne,  I  will  just  say  a  few 
words  respecting  an  affair  with  which  she  is  but  indirectly 
connected ;  it  refers  to  the  person  who  has  purchased  the 
estate  at  Cardoville,  a  certain  Madame  de  la  Sainte- 
Colombe,  who,  thanks  to  the  skilful  management  of 
Rodin,  has  established  me  as  her  medical  adviser." 

"Indeed!"  said  D'Aigrigny.  "Rodin  wrote  me  on 
the  subject,  but  without  entering  into  particulars." 

"  The  fact  is  this,"  continued  the  doctor ;  "  this  Madame 
de  la  Sainte-Colombe,  who  seemed  at  first  so  tractable, 
has  lately  evinced  a  great  disposition  to  retrograde  in  her 
conversion;  two  of  her  spiritual  advisers  have  already 
renounced  all  hopes  of  saving  her.  Not  knowing  how  to 
proceed,  Rodin  despatched  Philippon  to  her.  Now  Philip- 
pon  is  clever,  determined,  persevering,  and  possessed  of 
patience  enough  to  wear  anybody  out ;  he  was  just  the 

142 


THE  ENEMIES  OF  ADRIENNE. 


man  we  wanted.  Knowing  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe 
was  one  of  my  patients,  Philippon  applied  to  me  for  my 
assistance,  which  was  very  readily  granted,  and  we  agreed 
together  as  to  our  mode  of  cooperation.  I  was  to  appear 
entirely  a  stranger  to  him,  while  he  was  to  give  me  daily 
accounts  of  the  moral  condition  of  his  penitent,  in  order 
that,  by  a  very  inoffensive  medicine  (for,  in  reality,  the 
health  of  my  patient  was  very  triflingly  affected),  I  might 
be  able  to  produce  alternations  of  health,  or  a  slight  de- 
rangement of  it,  according  as  her  spiritual  director  was 
satisfied,  or  otherwise,  with  her  religious  progress,  in  order 
that  he  might  be  able  to  say  to  her,  <  You  see,  madame, 
while  you  steadfastly  pursue  the  right  road,  grace  pro- 
duces an  equally  salutary  effect  on  your  body  as  your 
soul,  and  you  are  well ;  but  do  you,  on  the  contrary,  re- 
lapse into  your  former  sins,  behold  you  experience  a 
return  of  bodily  infirmities  and  physical  ills,—  evidently 
proving  the  all-powerful  influence  of  faith,  not  only  on  the 
mind  but  the  body.'  " 

"It  is,  doubtless,  painful,"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  with 
the  most  perfect  sang-froid, "  to  be  obliged  to  employ  such 
means  to  save  a  fellow  creature  from  perdition ;  but  we 
must  at  all  times  adapt  our  modes  of  action  to  the 
understanding  and  disposition  of  the  individual  con- 
cerned." 

"  Besides,"  resumed  the  doctor,  "  Madame  la  Princesse 
may  recollect  that  I  often,  very  successfully,  employed 
these  methods  in  the  convent  of  Ste.-Marie,  for  the 
safety  of  the  souls  of  some  of  our  invalids.  These  alter- 
nations vary,  at  the  utmost,  only  from  being  <  quite  well ' 
to  becoming  'a  little  ailing;'  but,  however  slight  the 
change  effected,  it  is  frequently  sufficient  to  work  very 
efficaciously  on  certain  minds.  And  thus  had  it  pro- 
gressed most  beneficially  with  Madame  de  la  Sainte* 
Colombe  ;  indeed,  she  appeared  to  be  in  so  certain  a  path 
of  mental  cure  that  Rodin  considered  he  might  with 
safety  direct  Philippon  to  advise  his  penitent  to  retire  to 

143 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


the  country,  fearing  the  probability  of  her  relapsing  if 
she  continued  in  Paris.  This  advice,  coupled  with  her 
own  desire  to  appear  as  the  Lady  Bountiful  of  the  parish, 
determined  her  to  purchase  the  estate  of  Cardoville 
(which,  by  the  by,  was  a  capital  investment  for  her 
money)  ;  but,  behold  !  yesterday,  this  unfortunate  Philip- 
pon  came  to  acquaint  me  that  Madame  de  la  Sainte- 
Colombe  was  on  the  point  of  experiencing  a  fearful  re- 
lapse,—  fearful,  indeed,  for  it  is  one  quite  out  of  the 
reach  of  medicine.  Now  this  mischief  has  all  arisen  from 
a  conversation  this  lady  has  had  with  a  certain  Jacques 
Dumoulin,  of  whom  you  know  something,  I  am  told,  my 
dear  abbe,  and  who  has  managed,  I  know  not  how,  to 
form  an  acquaintance  with  her." 

"  This  Jacques  Dumoulin,"  said  the  marquis,  with  dis- 
gust, "  is  one  of  the  men  we  despise  while  we  make  use 
of  them.  He  is  a  writer  full  of  gall,  envy,  and  hatred, 
and  he  possesses  a  species  of  sharp,  coarse  eloquence.  We 
pay  him  well  to  defend  us  from  the  attacks  of  our  enemies, 
though  it  is  really  painful  to  vindicate,  through  the  medium 
of  such  a  pen,  the  principles  we  adopt  and  revere.  He 
is  a  poor,  miserable  scamp,  always  at  a  tavern,  and  gen- 
erally carried  home  in  a  state  of  intoxication ;  but  still 
the  fellow  has  a  most  inexhaustible  vein  of  abuse,  and  is, 
besides,  well  versed  in  all  theological  controversies  ;  so 
that,  at  times,  his  services  are  really  very  valuable  to 
us." 

"  Well,  though  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  must  at 
least  have  numbered  sixty  years,  it  would  appear  that 
Dumoulin  has  matrimonial  designs  upon  the  large  fortune 
of  this  lady.  You  will  do  wisely,  I  think,  to  apprise 
Rodin,  in  order  that  he  may  take  steps  to  preserve  her 
from  the  sinister  designs  of  this  aspirant  to  her  gold. 
But  I  must  beg  a  thousand  pardons  for  detaining  you  so 
long  with  these  disagreeable  particulars.  Apropos  of  the 
convent  of  Ste.-Marie,  of  which  I  did  myself,  just  now, 
the  honour  of  making  mention,  madame,"  added  the 


THE  ENEMIES  OF  ADRIENNE. 


doctor,  addressing  himself  to  the  princess,  "is  it  long 
since  you  were  there  ? " 

The  princess  exchanged  a  quick  glance  with  M. 
d'Aigrigny,  and  replied : 

"  Why,  about  eight  days  ago." 

"  Then  you  will  find  much  change.  The  wall  which 
was  between  that  and  my  Maison  de  Sante  has  been 
pulled  down,  and  they  are  about  to  build  up  a  new  man- 
sion and  a  chapel,  as  the  old  one  was  too  small.  Be- 
sides, I  must  say,  to  the  praise  of  Mile.  Adrienne,', 
added  the  doctor,  with  a  singular  half  smile,  "  that  she 
had  promised  me,  for  the  chapel,  a  copy  of  the  6  Virgin ' 
of  Raphael." 

"  Indeed !  that  was  very  apropos,"  said  the  princess. 
"  But  it  is  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  and  M.  Tripeaud  has 
not  arrived." 

"He  is  the  acting  guardian  of  Mile,  de  Cardoville, 
and  has  managed  her  affairs  as  the  old  acting  man  of 
the  comte-duc,"  said  the  marquis,  evidently  preoccupied  ; 
"  and  his  presence  is  indispensably  requisite  to  us.  He 
ought  to  be  here  before  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  who  may 
come  at  any  moment." 

"  It  is^  a  pity  that  his  portrait  cannot  replace  him 
here,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  meaning  smile,  and  taking 
a  small  pamphlet  from  his  pocket. 

"  What  is  that,  doctor  ? "  inquired  the  princess. 
"  One  of  those  anonymous  pamphlets  which  appear 
from  time  to  time ;  it  is  called  the  <  Scourge,'  and  the 
picture  of  Baron  Tripeaud  is  there  sketched  with  so 
much  truth  that  it  ceases  to  be  satire.  It  becomes 
reality.  See,  or  hear  rather.  This  etching  is  entitled 
<  Type  of  the  Lynx.' 

^  " 6  M.  the  Baron  Tripeaud.— This  man,  who  shows 
himself,  who  conducts  himself,  as  grossly  servile  towards 
certain  superiors  in  the  social  scale,  as  he  does  coarsely 
and  brutally  to  those  who  are  dependent  on  him  —  this 
man  is  the  living  and  repulsive  incarnation  of  the  worst 

145 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


portion  of  the  commercial  and  industrial  aristocracy,  of 
the  monied  man,  the  cold-blooded  speculator,  heartless, 
soulless,  faithless,  who  would  play  at  pitch-and-toss  as 
to  the  death  of  his  mother,  if  his  mother's  death  would 
have  any  effect  on  the  rise  or  fall  of  the  funds. 

"  6  Such  men  have  all  the  hateful  vices  of  a  newly 
enfranchised  class ;  not  of  those  whom  honourable, 
patient,  and  worthy  toil  have  nobly  enriched,  but  of 
those  who  have  been  suddenly  favoured  by  the  blind 
caprice  of  chance,  or  by  a  happy  cast  of  the  net  in  the 
foul  waters  of  stock  jobbing. 

"  <  Once  risen,  these  men  hate  the  people,  because  the 
people  remind  them  of  their  origin,  at  which  they  blush. 
Without  pity  for  the  frightful  wretchedness  of  the 
masses,  they  attribute  it  to  their  idleness  and  debauch- 
ery, because  this  foul  calumny  is  a  palliation  for  their 
brutal  selfishness. 

"  4  But  this  is  not  all. 

u  <  From  the  elevation  of  his  strong  box,  and  his 
double  right  as  an  eligible  representative,  M.  the  Baron 
Tripeaud,  like  many  others,  insults  the  poverty  and 
political  incapacity  — 

"  <  Of  the  soldier  of  fortune,  who,  after  forty  years' 
service  and  warfare,  can  hardly  exist  on  his  scanty 
retiring  pension ; 

" 6  Of  the  magistrate,  who  has  spent  his  life  in  fulfil- 
ling sad  and  painful  duties,  and  is  so  miserably  remu- 
nerated at  the  close  of  his  days ; 

" '  Of  the  scholar,  who  has  illustrated  his  country  by 
his  useful  labours ;  or  the  professor,  who  has  instructed 
whole  generations  in  every  class  of  human  knowledge ; 

"  6  Of  the  modest  and  virtuous  country  priest,  the 
purest  representative  of  the  gospel  in  its  charitable, 
paternal,  and  popular  interpretation,  etc. 

"  <  In  this  state  of  things,  must  not  Monsieur  the  Baron 
de  V Industrie  have  the  most  perfect  contempt  for  the 
crowds  of  honest  folk,  who,  after  having  given  to  their 

146 


THE  ENEMIES  OF  ADRIENNE. 

country  their  youth,  mature  years,  their  blood,  their 
intelligence  and  their  knowledge,  see  themselves  denied 
the  rights  which  he  enjoys?  Yes,  he  !  because  he  has 
gained  a  million  at  a  game  forbidden  by  law,  or  by  some 
discreditable  undertaking!  J 
_  '"  It  is  true  that  the  optimists  say  to  these  outcasts  of 
civilisation,  whose  proud  and  honest  poverty  they  cannot 
too  much  honour  and  venerate,  — 

"  'Buy  property,  —  then  you  will  be  eligible  as  electors.' 
We  now  come  to  the  biography  of  M.  the  Baron. 
_J^Andre  Tripeaud,  son  of  an  ostler  at  a  country 

At  this  moment  the  two  folding  doors  opened,  and  the 
valet  de  chambre  announced,  "  M.  the  Baron  Tripeaud  ' " 

Doctor  Baleinier  pocketed  his  pamphlet,  saluted  the 
thThand         cordially>  and  even  rose  to  shake  him  by 

The  baron  entered,  making  most  respectful  salutations 
Irom  the  moment  the  doors  were  opened. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  attend  the  princess's  orders  — 
she  knows  that  she  may  always  rely  on  me." 

"  I  rely  on  you  most  entirely,  M.  Tripeaud,  and  espe- 
cially in  the  present  peculiar  circumstance." 

"  If  the  princess's  intentions  respecting  mademoiselle 

continue  precisely  as  they  were  " 

"They  do  precisely,  sir;  and  that  is  the  reason  whv 
we  have  all  met  here  to-day." 

"  Madame  la  Princesse  may  feel  assured  of  my  con- 
currence which  I  have  already  promised  to  her.  I 
tnink,  also,  that  the  greatest  severity  ought  now  to  be 
employed,  and  that  it  is  even  requisite  —  " 

"  That  is  our  opinion,  also,"  said  the  marquis,  hastily 
making  a  sign  to  the  princess,  and  looking  towards  the 
spot  where  the  man  with  the  spectacles  was  concealed. 
"We  are  all  agreed,"  he  added,  "only  let  us  perfectly 
understand,  not  to  leave  any  point  concerning  the  inter- 
ests of  this  young  lady  in  doubt,  for  it  is  her  interests 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


which  alone  guide  us ;  let  us,  therefore,  excite  her  sin- 
cerity by  all  possible  means." 

"  Mademoiselle  has  come  from  the  garden  of  the 
pavilion,  and  begs  to  know  if  she  can  see  my  lady,"  said 
the  valet  de  chambre,  who  again  presented  himself,  after 
having  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Tell  mademoiselle  that  I  am  waiting  for  her,"  said 
the  princess  ;  "  and  now  I  am  not  at  home  to  anybody  — 
do  you  hear?  —  not  to  anybody."  Then  lifting  the 
screen,  behind  which  the  man  was  hidden,  Madame 
Saint-Dizier  gave  him  a  look  of  intelligence,  and  then 
returned  to  the  salon. 

It  was  strange,  but,  during  the  short  space  which 
preceded  the  arrival  of  Adrienne,  the  different  actors  in 
this  scene  seemed  disturbed  and  embarrassed,  as  if  they 
somehow  dreaded  her  appearance. 

At  the  end  of  a  minute,  Mile,  de  Cardoville  entered 
into  her  aunt's  apartment. 


148 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE  SKIRMISH. 

As  she  entered,  Mile,  de  Cardoville  threw  into  an 
armchair  her  gray  beaver  hat,  which  she  had  put  on 
to  cross  the  garden,  and  displayed  her  beautiful  golden 
hair,  which  fell  on  each  side  of  her  face  in  long  and 
graceful  curls,  and  was  twisted  up  in  a  large  knot  at  the 
back  of  her  head. 

Adrienne  presented  herself  without  boldness,  but  yet 
perfectly  self-possessed;  her  countenance  was  smiling 
and  animated,  and  her  large  black  eyes  seemed  more 
than  usually  sparkling.  When  she  saw  the  Abbe* 
d'Aigrigny,  she  made  a  slight  movement  of  surprise, 
and  a  slight  derisive  smile  passed  over  her  ruby  lips. 
Having  made  a  kind  nod  of  the  head  to  the  doctor,  and 
passed  in  front  of  Baron  Tripeaud  without  looking  at 
him,  she  saluted  the  princess  with  a  half  curtsey,  in  the 
best  possible  taste. 

Although  the  appearance  and  carriage  of  Mile,  de 
Cardoville  were  highly  distmgug,  in  the  best  style,  and 
particularly  remarkable  for  their  womanly  grace,  yet 
there  was  perceptible  a  something  resolute,  independent, 
and  haughty,  very  rare  amongst  females,  and  especially 
young  ladies  at  her  age ;  and  her  movements,  without 
being  abrupt,  yet  had  nothing  of  constraint,  stiffness,  or 
formality,  —  they  were,  in  fact,  free  and  independent,  like 
her  disposition ;  and  it  was  easy  to  see  in  her  the  full 
circulation  of  life-blood  and  youth,  and  to  judge  that  this 

149 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


organisation,  so  entirely  open,  loyal,  and  decided,  had 
never  as  yet  submitted  to  the  restraint  of  affected  rigour. 

It  was  strange  that  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny,  although 
a  man  of  the  world,  of  great  wit,  a  churchman  remarka- 
ble for  his  eloquence,  and  especially  as  a  man  of  control 
and  authority,  experienced  an  unaccountable  discomfort, 
an  inexpressible  and  almost  painful  restraint,  in  presence 
of  Adrienne  de  Cardoville.  He,  always  so  much  under 
self-control ;  he,  habituated  to  the  exercise  of  unbounded 
power;  he,  who  had  often,  in  the  name  of  his  Order, 
treated  on  terms  of  equality  with  crowned  heads,  felt 
himself  embarrassed  and  ill  at  ease  with  himself  in  the 
presence  of  this  young  girl,  who  was  as  remarkable  for 
her  frankness  as  for  her  wit  and  biting  satire.  Yet  as 
men  who  are  accustomed  to  impose  on  others  are  close 
on  hating  those  persons  who,  instead  of  submitting  to 
their  influence,  jest  at  and  embarrass  them,  so  it  was  not 
precisely  a  feeling  of  affection  which  the  marquis  expe- 
rienced for  the  niece  of  the  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier. 

For  a  long  time,  and  contrary  to  his  usual  practice,  he 
had  ceased  to  try  with  Adrienne  that  seductive  power, 
that  fascination  of  language,  to  which  was  mainly  owing 
the  irrestibility  of  his  demeanour ;  but  with  her  he  was 
cold,  short,  and  serious,  and  assumed  a  frigid  and 
haughty  dignity  and  austere  formality,  which  utterly 
paralysed  the  amiable  qualities  with  which  he  was 
gifted,  and  which  usually  served  his  purpose  so  well  and 
satisfactorily.  Adrienne  was  greatly  amused  at  all  this, 
but  most  imprudently,  for  the  most  vulgar  motives  very 
often  produce  implacable  hatred. 

Having  thus  premised,  the  different  feelings  and  inter- 
ests which  actuated  the  several  actors  in  this  scene  may 
be  easily  penetrated. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  was  seated  in  a  large  arm- 
chair at  the  corner  of  the  fireplace. 

The  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  was  standing  upright  before 
the  fire. 

150 


THE  SKIRMISH. 


Doctor  Balemier,  seated  near  a  writing-desk,  had  re- 
sumed his  perusal  of  the  Baron  Tripeaud's  biography 
>  ine  baron  seemed  to  be  very  attentively  examining  a 
picture  on  a  Scriptural  subject  hung  against  the  wall. 

"You  sent  for  me,  aunt,  to  talk  over  some  important 
matters  ?  _  said  Adrienne,  breaking  the  embarrassing 
silence  which  had  pervaded  the  salon  since  her  entrance 

"  Tes,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  princess,  with  a  cold 
and  stern  air;  "and  it  is  a  conversation  on  a  most 
serious  matter." 

"  I  am  quite  at  your  service,  aunt.  Shall  we  go  into 
your  library  ?  "  & 

" There  is  no  occasion  for  that,  we  can  talk  here  " 
Ihen  addressing  the  marquis,  the  doctor,  and  the  baron, 
she  said,  «  Gentlemen,  will  you  please  to  be  seated." 

They  accordingly  took  their  places  around  the  cabinet- 
table  of  the  princess. 

"  May  I  inquire,  aunt,"  asked  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  with 
surprise,  « in  what  manner  our  conversation  can  possibly 
concern  these  gentlemen  ? " 

"  These  gentlemen  are  old  friends  of  the  family ;  all 
that  can  affect  you  interests  them,  and  their  counsels 
ought  to  be  listened  to,  and  received  by  you  with 
respect."  J  J 

« I  have  no  doubt,  aunt,  of  the  very  particular  friend- 
aV*  ^  dA:^ri^y  for  our  family,  still  less  can  I 
doubt  the  profound  and  disinterested  devotion  of  M 
Tripeaud;  M.  Baleinier  is  one  of  my  old  friends;  but 
before  I  accept  of  these  gentlemen  as  spectators,  or,  if 
you  like  better,  aunt,  as  confidants  of  our  conversation 
1  wish  to  be  instructed  as  to  the  subject  which  is  to  be 
discussed  before  them." 

"  I  thought,  mademoiselle,  that  amongst  your  singular 
pretensions  you  had  at  least  frankness  and  courage  " 

"Oh  aunt!"  replied  Adrienne,  smiling  with  mock 
humility,  « I  have  no  greater  pretensions  to  frankness 
and  courage  than  you  have  to  sincerity  and  goodness ; 

151 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


let  us,  therefore,  agree,  once  for  all,  that  we  are  what  we 
are  —  without  pretension." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  in  a  dry 
tone.  "  For  a  long  time  I  have  been  accustomed  to  the 
displays  of  your  independent  spirit,  and  I  think  that, 
frank  and  courageous  as  you  are  said  to  be,  you  ought 
not  to  fear  speaking  out  before  persons,  as  serious  and 
respectable  as  these  gentlemen,  as  you  would  if  we  two 
were  alone.' ' 

"  It  is,  then,  an  interrogatory  in  form  which  I  am  to 
undergo  ;  and  on  what  point  ? " 

64  It  is  not  an  interrogatory ;  but,  as  I  have  the  right 
to  watch  over  you,  and  as  you  abuse  my  weak  compli- 
ance with  your  humours  more  and  more,  I  am  desirous 
of  putting  an  end  to  that  which  has  lasted  too  long 
already ;  and  I  am  also  desirous,  before  these  friends  of 
our  family,  to  signify  to  you  my  irrevocable  resolution 
as  to  the  future.  And  in  the  first  place  let  me  tell  you, 
that  up  to  this  period  you  have  entertained  a  very  false 
and  imperfect  idea  of  my  power  over  you." 

"I  assure  you,  aunt,  that  I  have  never  entertained 
any  idea,  false  or  true,  for  it  is  a  point  on  which  I  have 
never  thought  at  all." 

"  That  was  my  fault.  I  ought,  instead  of  complying 
with  your  fancies,  to  have  made  you  rather  to  feel  more 
severely  my  full  authority.  But  the  moment  has  come 
when  you  must  be  made  to  submit ;  the  heavy  blame  of 
my  friends  has  opened  my  eyes  before  it  is  too  late. 
Your  disposition  is  self-willed,  independent,  and  head- 
strong, and  it  must  be  altered,  I  tell  you ;  and  I,  moreover, 
tell  you  it  shall  be  altered." 

At  these  words,  harshly  spoken,  and  before  persons 
not  allied  to  her,  and  whose  severity  seemed  wholly 
uncalled  for,  Adrienne  raised  her  head  haughtily,  but 
mastering  her  emotion,  she  replied,  with  a  smile : 

"  You  say,  aunt,  that  I  shall  alter ;  that  will  not  sur- 
prise me.    We  have  seen  conversions  quite  as  singular." 

152 


THE  SKIRMISH. 


The  princess  bit  her  lip. 

"A  sincere  conversion  is  never  singular,  as  you  term 
it,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  Abbe-  d'Aigrigny,  coldly  «  but 
on  the  contrary,  very  meritorious  and  most  exemplary  "' 

"  Exemplary!  »  retorted  Adrienne.  «  That's  as  it  may 
De  ;  tor,  it  tauits  are  converted  into  vices  " 

"What  mean  you,  mademoiselle?"  exclaimed  the 
princess. 

"I  speak  of  myself,  aunt.  You  reproach  me  with 
being  independent  and  resolute.  If  by  accident  I  were 
to  become  hypocritical  and  wicked,  why,  really  I  would 
rather  preserve  my  dear  little  naughtinesses,  which  I 
love  as  spoiled  children.  I  know  what  I  am,  but  not 
what  l  might  then  become." 

"Still,  Mile.  Adrienne,"  said  the  Baron  Tripeaud, 
with  a  sententious  and  conceited  air,  "you  cannot  deny 
that  a  conversion  —  "  1 
"I  believe  that  M.  Tripeaud  is  extremely  strong  on 
the  conversion  of  every  kind  of  thing,  into  every  sort  of 
profit  by  every  possible  means,"  said  Adrienne,  in  a 
marked  and  disdainful  tone;  "but  the  subject  before  us 
is  not  his  business. 

"But,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  financier,  taking 
courage  from  a  look  of  the  princess,  "you  forget  that  I 
nave  the  honour  to  be  your  sub-guardian,  and  that  —  " 

It  is  perfectly  true  that  M.  Tripeaud  has  that  honour, 
and  I  never  could  clearly  understand  wherefore,"  said 
Adrienne,  with  increased  hauteur,  and  not  even  looking 
at  the  baron;  "but  at  present  we  are  not  guessing 

I      a   *         theref°re,  aunt,  to  learn  the  motive  and 
tlie  end  of  this  meeting." 

"  You  shall  be  satisfied,  mademoiselle;  I  will  explain 
myself  in  a  way  perfectly  clear  and  precise.    You  will 
ZL^1™  °f  Conduct  wUch  you  must  henceforward 
f    t  7°U  refuse  t0  submit  with  obedience  and 
have  t  d  "     mJ  COmmands' 1  sha11  then  see  what  I 


153 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


It  is  impossible  to  depict  the  imperious  tone,  the  harsh 
demeanour  of  the  princess  as  she  said  these  words,  which 
were  enough  to  startle  a  young  girl  accustomed,  up  to 
that  time,  to  live  and  do  as  she  pleased.  Yet,  perhaps, 
contrary  to  the  expectation  of  Madame  Saint-Dizier, 
instead  of  replying  with  temper,  Adrienne  looked  her 
full  in  the  face,  and  said,  laughingly : 

"  Really,  then,  it  is  a  decided  declaration  of  war ;  this 
becomes  amusing." 

"It  is  no  declaration  of  war,"  said  the  abbe\  in  a 
severe  tone,  wounded  by  Mile,  de  Cardoville's  expres- 
sions. 

«  Ah,  M.  T Abbe,"  she  replied ;  "  you,  an  old  colonel, 
are  very  hard  on  a  jest !  You,  who  owe  so  much  to 
war!  You,  who,  thanks  to  war,  have  commanded  a 
French  regiment,  after  having  for  so  long  a  time  fought 
against  France,  in  order,  no  doubt,  that  you  might  know 
alike  the  strength  and  weakness  of  your  enemies ! " 

At  these  words,  which  called  up  painful  remembrances, 
the  marquis  turned  red  and  was  about  to  reply,  when  the 
princess  exclaimed : 

"  Really,  mademoiselle,  this  conduct  is  most  intoler- 
able ! "  a 

«  Is  it,  aunt  ?  Then  I  will  confess  my  error,  and  will 
not  even  say  that  it  is  amusing,  for,  really,  it  is  not  at 
all  so ;  but,  at  least,  it  is  curious,  and,  perhaps,  even," 
added  the  young  lady,  after  a  moment's  silence,  —  ''  per- 
haps, even  rather  bold;  but  I  like  boldness.  Since, 
then,  we  are  on  this  point,  and  are  to  decide  upon  a 
course  of  conduct  which  I  am  to  comply  with,  under 
penalty  of  —  "  Then  checking  herself,  and  addressing 
her  aunt,  "  Under  what  penalty,  aunt  ?" 

"  You  will  learn  ;  continue." 

"  I  will  then,  before  these  gentlemen,  deliver  to  you, 
in  a  clear  and  precise  manner,  my  determination.  As 
it  required  time  before  it  was  ripe  for  execution,  I  have 
not  mentioned  it  to  you  before,  for,  as  you  know,  it  is 

154 


THE  SKIRMISH. 


not  my  custom  to  say  '  I  will  do  this/  but 6 1  have  done 
so  and  so.'" 

"  Certainly  ;  and  it  is  this  habit  of  culpable  independ- 
ence that  you  must  break  through." 

"  It  was  not  my  intention  to  have  informed  you  of  my 
resolution  for  the  present,  but  I  cannot  resist  the  pleasure 
of  telling  you  a  portion  of  it  to-day,  as  you  seem  so 
desirous  to  learn  and  approve  of  it.  But  I  beg  of  you, 
aunt,  first  to  speak  ;  it  might  so  happen  that  our  opinions 
are  completely  accordant." 

"I  like  better  to  find  you  in  this  mood,"  said  the 
princess.  "  I  find  in  you  the  courage  of  your  pride  and 
your  contempt  of  all  authority.  You  talk  of  boldness  ; 
your  own  is  excessive." 

"I  am  at  least  fully  determined  to  do  what  others, 
through  weakness,  unfortunately,  dare  not  do;  I  will 
dare.    This,  I  think,  is  clear  and  precise  enough." 

"  Very  clear,  very  precise,"  said  the  princess,  exchang- 
ing a  look  of  intelligence  and  satisfaction  with  the  other 
actors  in  this  scene.  "  Positions  thus  established  very 
much  simplify  matters.  I  ought,  though,  to  warn  you, 
for  your  own  sake,  that  this  is  a  very  serious  affair,  — 
more  so  than  you  think,  and  that  there  is  but  one  way 
in  which  you  can  dispose  me  to  be  indulgent ;  and  that 
is,  by  substituting  for  the  arrogance  and  habitual  irony 
of  your  language  the  modesty  and  respect  which  beseem 
a  young  lady." 

Adrienne  smiled,  but  made  no  reply. 
There  was  a  brief  silence,  and  some  looks  exchanged 
again  between  the  princess  and  her  three  friends,  which 
implied  that  a  serious  battle  was  about  to  follow  these 
skirmishes,  more  or  less  lively. 

Mile,  de  Cardoville  had  too  much  penetration,  too 
much  sagacity,  not  to  observe  that  the  Princesse  de  Saint- 
Dizier  attached  very  serious  importance  to  this  decisive 
conversation  ;  but  the  young  lady  did  not  understand 
how  her  aunt  could  hope  to  impose  on  her  her  absolute 

155 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


will ;  threats  of  having  recourse  to  means  of  coercion 
seemed  to  her  ridiculous.  Nevertheless,  knowing  the 
vindictive  character  of  her  aunt,  the  dark  power  she 
wielded,  the  terrible  vengeance  she  had  sometimes 
taken  ;  reflecting,  also,  that  men,  in  the  positions  of 
the  marquis  and  the  doctor,  could  not  be  called  in  to 
assist  at  such  an  interview  but  from  weighty  motives, 
the  young  lady  reflected  for  a  moment  before  she  gave 
battle. 

But  very  speedily,  for  the  very  reason  of  her  vague 
suspicions  of  some  danger  at  hand,  she,  so  far  from 
succumbing,  resolved  to  face  and  brave  her,  exaggerating 
if  possible  the  independence  of  her  own  ideas,  and  main- 
taining to  the  last,  in  spite  of  all  and  everything,  the 
determination,  which  she,  on  her  side,  meant  to  notify 
to  the  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier. 


156 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE  REVOLT. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess  to  Adrienne  de 
Cardoville,  in  a  cold  and  severe  tone,  "  I  owe  it  to  myself, 
I  owe  it  to  these  gentlemen,  to  recall,  in  a  few  words, 
the  events  which  have  been  passing  now  for  some  time. 
Six  months  ago,  after  your  mourning  for  your  father, 
and  when  you  were  eighteen  years  of  age,  you  asked  my 
leave  to  enjoy  your  fortune  and  be  emancipated  from 
control.    I  was  weak  enough  to  comply.    You  wished 
to  leave  this  h6tel  and  establish  yourself  in  the  pavilion 
in  the  garden,  away  from  all  surveillance,  and  you  then 
began  a  series  of  extravagances,  each  more  excessive 
than  the  other.    Instead  of  contenting  yourself  with  one 
or  two  waiting-maids  taken  from  the  class  in  which  they 
are  usually  found,  you  have  selected  companions,  whom 
you  have  dressed  in  a  manner  as  whimsical  as  it  is  ex- 
travagant ;  whilst  you,  in  the  solitude  of  your  pavilion, 
have,  it  is  true,  attired  yourself  in  every  costume  of  by- 
gone times  in  turns.    Your  caprices,  your  follies,  have 
been  boundless  and  unreasonable;  not  only  have  you 
never  fulfilled  your  religious  duties,  but  you  have  had 
the  audacity  to  profane  one  of  your  salons  by  erecting 
some  sort  of  a  pagan  altar,  in  which  there  is  a  marble 
group  representing  a  young  man  and   young  woman 
(the  princess  pronounced  these  words  as  if  they  burnt 
her  lips)  ;  it  is,  perhaps,  called  an  object  of  art,  but  no 
object  of  art  could  be  more  unfitly  placed  than  in  the 
apartment  of  a  young  person  of  your  age.    You  have 

157 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


passed  whole  days  entirely  secluded  and  alone,  without 
receiving  any  person ;  and  Doctor  Baleinier,  the  only  one 
of  my  friends  whose  confidence  you  have  preserved,  hav- 
ing at  length  obtained  admittance  to  you,  has  frequently 
found  you  in  such  a  high  state  of  excitement  that  he 
has  had  the  greatest  fears  for  your  health.  You  have 
always  chosen  to  go  out  alone,  without  being  in  any  way 
accountable  to  any  person  for  your  actions  ;  and  at  length 
it  has  pleased  you  at  last,  upon  all  occasions,  to  set  your 
own  will  above  my  authority.    All  this  is  true,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  This  picture  of  the  past  is  not  very  flattering,"  said 
Adrienne,  with  a  smile  ;  "  but  I  will  not  say  that  I  could 
not  recognise  any  of  the  features." 

"  Well  then,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny, 
speaking  with  much  deliberation,  "  you  confess  that  all 
the  facts  which  your  aunt  has  adduced  are  scrupulously 
true  ?  " 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  on  Adrienne,  as  if  her  reply 
were  of  extreme  importance. 

"  I  should  think,  sir,  that  I  am  accustomed  to  live  so 
openly  that  such  a  question  is  perfectly  useless." 

"  These  facts,  then,  are  confessed,"  said  the  Abbe 
d'Aigrigny,  turning  to  the  doctor  and  the  baron. 

"  These  facts  remain  completely  substantiated,"  said  M. 
Tripeaud,  with  a  consequential  air. 

"  May  I  inquire,  aunt,"  said  Adrienne,  "  the  use  of  this 
long  preamble  ? " 

"  This  long  preamble,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  prin- 
cess, with  dignity,  "  serves  to  reveal  the  past  so  that  it 
may  operate  upon  the  future." 

"  This  is  really  something,  my  dear  aunt,  a  little  in 
the  style  of  the  mysterious  utterings  of  the  Cumagan 
sibyl.    Something  very  terrible  must  be  to  follow." 

"  Perhaps  so,  mademoiselle ;  for  nothing  can  be  more 
terrible  for  certain  dispositions  than  obedience  and  duty, 
and  your  disposition  is  of  that  class  which  is  inclined  to 
rebellion." 

158 


THE  REVOLT. 


"  I  confess  the  fact  undisguisedly,  aunt ;  and  so  it  will 
be  until  the  time  when  I  can  cherish  obedience  and 
respect  duty." 

"  Whether  you  cherish  or  respect  my  orders  or  not 
is  of  little  consequence,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess, 
in  a  harsh  and  brief  tone ;  "  but  from  this  very  day,  this 
very  moment,  you  must  begin  to  submit  yourself  entirely 
and  blindly  to  my  will,  —  in  a  word,  you  shall  do  nothing 
without  my  permission ;  it  must  and  shall  be  so." 

Adrienne  looked  steadfastly  at  her  aunt  for  a  minute, 
and  then  burst  into  a  fit  of  loud  and  real  laughter,  which 
echoed  through  the  large  apartment. 

M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  Baron  Tripeaud  made  gestures 
of  indignation. 

The  princess  looked  at  her  niece  with  an  angry  air. 
^  The  doctor  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and,  clasping 
his  hands  together  over  his  stomach,  sighed  with  much 
compunction. 

"  Mademoiselle,  such  bursts  of  laughter  are  very  ill- 
timed,"  said  the  Abbe"  d'Aigrigny;  "the  language  of 
your  aunt  is  most  serious,  and  deserves  a  very  different 
reception." 

"Oh,  sir,"  said  Adrienne,  repressing  her  mirth; 
"  whose  fault  is  it  if  I  laugh  so  loud  ?  How  could  I 
remain  unmoved,  when  I  heard  my  aunt  speak  of  a 
blind  submission  to  her  orders  ?  Can  the  swallow, 
accustomed  to  fly  freely  through  the  air,  to  enjoy  the 
full  sunlight,  live,  exist,  in  a  mole-hill  ? " 

At  this  reply,  M.  d'Aigrigny  affected  to  regard  the 
other  members  of  this  kind  of  family  consultation  with 
profound  astonishment. 

"A  swallow!  What  does  she  mean?"  asked  the 
abbe  of  the  baron,  making  him  a  sign  which  the  other 
understood. 

"  I  really  do  not  comprehend,"  replied  Tripeaud,  look- 
ing in  his  turn  at  the  doctor;  "she  talks  of  a  mole,— 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  —  never,  really  !  " 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  This,  then,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess,  appear- 
ing to  participate  in  the  surprise  of  the  other  persons ; 
44  this,  then,  is  the  reply  you  make  to  me  ?  " 

44  Certainly,"  replied  Adrienne,  astonished  in  her  turn 
that  they  should  affect  not  to  understand  the  figure  of 
speech  she  had  made  use  of,  as  she  was  often  in  the 
habit  of  using  poetic  and  pictorial  similes. 

44  Really,  madame,  really,''  said  Doctor  Baleinier, 
smiling  blandly,  44  we  must  be  indulgent ;  my  dear 
Mile.  Adrienne  has  such  a  lively  disposition,  such  a 
mirthful,  excitable  temperament,  —  she  is  really  the 
most  delightful  little  madcap  I  ever  knew,  and  I  have 
told  her  so  a  hundred  times  in  my  capacity  of  an  old 
friend,  who  is  allowed  to  say  —  " 

44  I  can  perfectly  comprehend  that  your  regard  for 
mademoiselle  makes  you  very  indulgent ;  but  it  is  not 
the  less  true,  doctor,"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  appearing  to 
reproach  the  physician  for  taking  part  with  Mile,  de 
Cardoville,  44  that  these  are  most  wild  replies  when  there 
is  a  discussion  on  questions  so  grave  and  serious." 

44  The  misfortune  is,  that  mademoiselle  does  not 
comprehend  the  seriousness  of  this  conference,"  said 
the  princess,  with  a  severe  air.  44  Perhaps  she  will 
comprehend  it  now,  when  I  shall  tell  her  of  my  com- 
mands." 

44  Let  us  hear  those  commands,  aunt." 

And  Adrienne,  who  had  been  sitting  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  table  opposite  to  her  aunt,  placed  her  little 
rosy  chin  in  the  hollow  of  her  beautiful  hand,  with  an 
air  of  graceful  mockery  which  was  charming. 

44  From  to-morrow,"  replied  the  princess,  44  you  will 
quit  the  pavilion  in  which  you  dwell.  You  will  dismiss 
your  women,  you  will  return  and  occupy  two  rooms 
here,  which  have  no  approach  but  through  my  apart- 
ment, you  will  never  go  out  alone,  you  will  accom- 
pany me  to  religious  duties,  your  freedom  will  cease, 
in  consequence  of  extravagances  clearly  and  distinctly 

160 


THE  REVOLT. 


made  out.  I  shall  take  upon  myself  the  entire  arrange- 
ment of  all  your  expenses ;  I  shall  order  your  dresses,  in 
order  that  you  may  be  modestly  dressed  as  you  ought  to 
be ;  and  in  fact,  until  you  attain  your  majority,  which 
is  not  now  indefinitely  deferred,  thanks  to  the  interven- 
tion of  a  family  consultation,  you  will  not  have  any  sum 
of  money  at  your  command.    Such  is  my  will." 

"  And  certainly  your  resolution,  Madame  la  Princesse, 
cannot  be  too  much  applauded,"  said  the  Baron  Tri- 
peaud.  "  And  you  must  be  supported  in  displaying  the 
greatest  firmness,  for  such  conduct  ought  to  be  put  a 
stop  to." 

"  It  is  more  than  time  to  terminate  such  scandalous 
behaviour,"  added  the  abbe. 

"  Caprice,  excitement  of  habit,  however,  may  palliate 
many  things,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  hypocritical 
air. 

"  Unquestionably,  doctor,"  replied  the  princess,  dryly, 
to  the  doctor,  who  played  his  part  admirably ;  "  but  that 
is  in  reference  to  dispositions  which  deserve  it." 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had  expressed  herself  in  a 
precise  and  firm  manner,  and  seemed  convinced  of  the 
possibility  of  executing  all  she  had  menaced  her  niece 
with.  M.  Tripeaud  and  M.  d'Aigrigny  gave  their  full 
assent  to  all  the  princess  had  said.  Adrienne  then 
began  to  perceive  that  there  was  really  something  seri- 
ous in  agitation,  and  then  her  gaiety  gave  way  to  bitter 
irony,  and  an  expression  of  aroused  independence. 

She  rose  suddenly  from  her  seat,  her  countenance  was 
somewhat  suffused,  whilst  her  nostrils  expanded,  her  eye 
glistened,  and,  raising  her  head,  she  shook  her  bright  and 
flowing  hair  with  a  gesture  full  of  natural  dignity, 
and,  after  a  moment's  silence,  replied  to  her  aunt  in 
an  emphatic  tone  : 

"  You,  madame,  have  spoken  of  the  past ;  I  will  now 
say  a  few  words,  to  which  you  have  urged  me,  —  yes, 
urged  me,  and  I  regret  to  say  it.    I  left  your  dwelling 

161 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


because  it  was  impossible  tbat  I  could  any  longer  live  in 
an  atmosphere  of  dark  hypocrisy  and  basest  perfidy." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  "  such  language 
is  as  violent  as  it  is  unreasonable  !  " 

"  Sir,  since  you  interrupt  me  I  will  say  two  words  to 
you,"  said  Adrienne,  peremptorily,  and  looking  steadfastly 
at  the  abbe.  "  What  examples  did  I  find  in  my  aunt's 
abode  ?" 

"  Excellent  examples,  mademoiselle." 

"  Excellent,  sir  ?  Was  it  because  I  saw  there  daily 
her  conversion,  the  accomplice  of  your  own  ? " 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  forget  yourself !  "  said  the  prin- 
cess, pale  with  rage. 

"  Madame,  I  do  not  forget :  I  remember,  as  everybody 
else  must.  No  more  !  I  had  no  relative  from  whom  to 
seek  an  asylum  —  I  wished  to  live  alone  —  I  desired 
to  have  my  income,  because  I  would  rather  spend  it 
myself  then  allow  it  to  be  wasted  by  M.  Tripeaud." 

"  Mademoiselle !  "  exclaimed  the  baron,  "  I  cannot 
understand  how  you  can. allow  yourself  —  " 

^  "  Enough,  sir  ! "  said  Adrienne,  imposing  silence  on 
him  by  a  gesture  of  the  most  cutting  hauteur.  "  I  am 
speaking  of  you,  and  not  to  you." 

Adrienne  continued: 

"  I  resolved,  therefore,  to  expend  my  revenue  accord- 
ing to  my  own  tastes ;  I  have  embellished  the  retreat 
I  selected.  To  waiting-maids  ugly  and  ill-informed,  I 
have  preferred  good-looking  young  girls,  well  brought 
up,  though  poor ;  their  education  not  permitting  me  to 
put  them  to  domestic  drudgery,  I  have  made  their  situa- 
tions agreeable  and  light ;  they  do  not  serve  me,  they 
render  me  service ;  I  pay  them,  but  it  is  I  who  am  grate- 
ful. These  are  niceties  which  I  know  you  do  not  com- 
prehend, madame.  Instead  of  seeing  them  badly  or 
ungracefully  dressed,  I  have  given  them  attire  which 
suits  their  handsome  faces,  because  I  like  what  is  young 
and  handsome  ;  and  if  I  dress  in  any  peculiar  way,  that 

162 


THE  EEVOLT. 


is  nothing  to  anybody  but  my  looking-glass.  I  go  out 
alone,  because  I  like  to  go  wherever  my  fancy  may  lead 
me,  I  do  not  go  to  mass,  —  true.  If  I  had  a  mother 
alive,  I  would  tell  her  what  my  devotions  were,  and  she 
would  embrace  me  tenderly.  I  have  raised  a  pagan 
altar  to  youth  and  beauty,  —  that  is  true ;  because  I 
adore  God  in  everything  that  is  beautiful,  good,  noble, 
and  great,  and  my  heart  from  morning  to  night  repeats 
this  fervent  and  sincere  prayer  :  <  Thanks,  Almighty 
Father,  thanks.'  M.  Baleinier,  you  say,  madame,  has 
often  found  me  in  my  solitude,  a  prey  to  strange  excite- 
ment, —  that  is  true,  also ;  because  at  such  moments, 
escaping  by  thought  from  all  that  makes  the  present  so 
hateful,  so  painful,  so  repulsive,  I  have  sought  refuge  in 
the  future,  and  then  I  have  conjured  up  magic  horizons, 
—  then  I  have  seen  visions  so  glorious  that  I  have  been 
carried  away  in  sublime  and  divine  ecstasy,  and  belong 
no  more  to  this  earth." 

As  she  pronounced  these  words  with  much  enthusiasm, 
the  physiognomy  of  Adrienne  seemed  to  glow  with  in- 
spiration, and  at  the  moment  she  was  out  of  the  world 
which  existed  around  and  about  her. 

"  It  is  then,"  she  continued,  with  increasing  excite- 
ment, "  I  breathe  a  pure,  vivifying,  and  free  air,  —  oh, 
yes,  free,  free !  And  so  wholesome,  so  congenial  to  the 
soul!  Yes,  instead  of  seeing  my  sisters  painfully  sub- 
mitted to  an  egotistical,  humiliating,  and  brutal  control, 
to  which  they  owe  the  seducing  vices  of  slavery,  sleek 
fraud,  seducing  perfidy,  cajoling  mendacity,  despicable 
resignation,  odious  obedience,  I  see  them,  those  noble 
sisters,  worthy  and  sincere,  because  they  are  free ; 
faithful  and  devoted,  because  they  have  a  choice ;  neither 
despotic  nor  servile,  because  they  have  no  master  to  rule 
or  flatter ;  cherished  and  respected  indeed,  because  they 
could  withdraw  from  a  faithless  hand  a  hand  faithfully 
given.  Oh,  my  sisters,  my  sisters  !  I  see  them  ;  they  are 
not  only  comforting  visions,  they  are  also  sacred  hopes  !  " 

163 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Led  away  in  spite  of  herself  by  the  excitement  of  her 
ideas,  Adrienne  kept  silent  for  a  moment,  that  she  might 
alight  on  earth  again,  and  did  not  remark  that  the  actors 
in  this  scene  looked  at  each  other  with  a  delighted  air. 

"  But  what  she  says  is  really  delightful,  beautiful ! " 
murmured  the  doctor  in  the  princess's  ear;  "if  she 
had  arranged  it  with  us,  she  could  not  have  spoken 
better.', 

"It  is  only  by  exciting  her  through  a  course  of  ex- 
treme severity  that  she  will  touch  the  point  to  which  we 
must  drive  her,"  added  M.  d'Aigrigny. 

But  it  would  appear  that  the  irritation  of  Adrienne 
was  dissipated  when  it  came  in  collision  with  the  generous 
feelings  that  pervaded  her. 

Addressing  M.  Baleinier,  she  said : 

"  But,  doctor,  it  must  be  confessed  that  nothing  is  so 
ridiculous  as  to  give  way  to  the  enjoyment  of  certain 
thoughts  in  the  presence  of  persons  incapable  of  appre- 
ciating them.  I  have  given  you  a  fine  opportunity  for 
deriding  that  excitement  of  temperament  with  which 
you  sometimes  reproach  me ;  and  I,  to  allow  myself  to 
be  led  away  at  so  serious  a  moment,  for  it  appears  this 
is  a  very  serious  moment!  But  then,  my  good  M. 
Baleinier,  when  an  idea  comes  into  my  mind,  it  is  as 
impossible  for  me  not  to  follow  it  up  as  it  was  impossi- 
ble that  I  should  not  run  after  butterflies  when  I  was  a 
good  little  girl." 

"  And  Heaven  only  knows  whither  those  brilliant  but- 
terflies of  every  hue,  which  came  across  your  mind,  have 
led  you.  Ah,  the  mad  head  —  the  foolish  fancy!"  said 
M.  Baleinier,  smiling  with  a  paternal  and  indulgent 
air.  "  When  will  you  be  as  reasonable  as  you  are 
charming  ?" 

"  From  this  instant,  doctor,"  replied  Adrienne,  "  I  will 
at  once  abandon  my  reveries  for  realities,  and  speak  a 
language  perfectly  positive,  as  you  shall  hear." 

Then  addressing  her  aunt,  she  continued : 

164 


THE  REVOLT. 


"  You  have  communicated  to  me,  madame,  your  will ; 
I  will  now  communicate  mine  : 

"  In  less  than  a  week  I  shall  leave  the  pavilion  I 
inhabit  for  a  mansion  which  I  have  fitted  up  according 
to  my  taste,  and  I  shall  live  there  as  I  please.  I  have 
neither  father  nor  mother,  and  am  therefore  not  account- 
able for  my  actions  to  any  person  but  myself." 

"  Really,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess,  shrugging 
her  shoulders,  "  you  are  talking  nonsense  !  You  forget 
that  society  has  imperscriptible  rights  of  morality,  and 
that  we  are  empowered  to  see  them  enforced ;  and,  rely 
on  it,  we  will  do  so." 

"  Well,  then,  madame,  it  must  be  you,  then,  and  M. 
d'Aigrigny,  and  M.  Tripeaud,  who  represent  the  morality 
of  society.  That  is  an  ingenious  idea,  certainly.  Is  it 
because  M.  Tripeaud  has  considered  I  must  confess  my 
fortune  as  his  own  ?    Is  it  because  —  " 

"  Really,  really,  mademoiselle  !  "  cried  Tripeaud. 

"  Presently,  madame,"  said  Adrienne  to  her  aunt, 
without  deigning  a  reply  to  the  baron,  "  as  the  oppor- 
tunity serves,  I  shall  take  leave  to  ask  of  you  informa- 
tion as  to  certain  interests  which,  I  believe,  have  been 
concealed  from  me  until  now  —  " 

At  these  words  of  Adrienne,  M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  prin- 
cess were  startled.  They  exchanged  looks  of  pain  and 
uneasiness.    Adrienne  did  not  remark  it,  and  continued  : 

"  But  that  we  may  come  to  the  point,  madame,  I  will 
be  explicit.  I  will  live  precisely  as  I  may  choose.  I  do 
not  think,  if  I  were  a  man,  that  at  my  age  they  would 
inflict  upon  me  the  severe  and  humiliating  system  of  tute- 
lage which  you  desire  to  impose,  for  having  lived  as  I 
have  lived  hitherto,  —  that  is  to  say,  honourably,  freely, 
and  generously,  in  sight  of  all." 

"  The  idea  is  absurd ;  'tis  madness ! "  exclaimed  the 
princess.  "  It  is  to  countenance  demoralisation,  and  the 
forgetfulness  of  all  modesty  to  the  last  degree,  to  desire 
to  lead  such  a  life  !  " 

165 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Then,  madame,"  said  Adrienne,  «  what  opinion  have 
you  of  many  poor  girls  of  humble  origin,  orphans  like 
myself,  who  live  as  free  and  alone  as  I  mean  to  do? 
They  have  not  had,  as  I  have  had,  a  refined  education, 
which  elevates  the  soul  and  purifies  the  heart.  They 
have  not,  as  I  have,  riches,  which  defend  from  all  the 
bad  temptations  of  misery,  and  yet  they  live  honest  and 
proud  in  their  distress." 

"  Vice  and  virtue  have  no  existence  for  such  low-lived 
creatures ! "  exclaimed  the  Baron  Tripeaud,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  harshness  and  fierce  contempt. 

"  Madame,  you  would  turn  away  one  of  your  lackeys 
who  dared  to  use  such  language  before  you,"  said  Adri- 
enne to  her  aunt,  unable  to  repress  her  disgust ;  «  and 
yet  you  compel  me  to  hear  such  things  !  " 

The  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  pressed  Tripeaud's  knee  under 
the  table,  who  had  spoken  in  the  princess's  salon  as  he 
would  at  the  Exchange,  and  said  quickly,  to  repair  the 
baron's  coarseness : 

"  Mademoiselle,  there  is  no  comparison  between  such 
people  and  a  young  lady  of  your  station." 

"  For  a  Catholic,  M.  l'Abbe,  the  distinction  is  not  very 
Christian-like,"  replied  Adrienne. 

"  I  know  the  force  of  my  words,  mademoiselle,"  replied 
the  abbe,  formally  ;  "  and  the  independent  life  you  would 
lead,  against  all  reason,  must  involve  sad  consequences 
for  the  future;  for,  perhaps,  some  day  or  other,  your 
family  may  wish  to  marry  you,  and  then  —  " 

"  I  will  spare  my  family  that  trouble,  sir.  If  I  desire 
to  marry,  I  will  marry  myself,—  that,  I  think,  is  but  fair  ; 
though,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  am  but  little  tempted  to  wear 
the  heavy  chain  which  selfishness  and  brutality  rivets 
around  our  necks." 

"  It  is  really  quite  unbecoming,  mademoiselle,"  said 
the  princess,  "  to  speak  thus  slightingly  of  this  insti- 
tution." 

"  Before  you,  madame,  assuredly ;  and  I  pray  you  to 

166 


THE  REVOLT. 


forgive  me  for  having  shocked  you.  You  are  afraid  that 
my  independent  manner  of  living  will  frighten  away  my 
suitors,—  that  is  another  reason  why  I  will  persist  in  my 
independence,  for  I  have  a  horror  of  suitors.  All  I  desire 
is  to  frighten  them  away,  and  give  them  a  bad  opinion  of 
me,  and  to  effect  that  there  is  no  better  way  than  to 
appear  to  live  exactly  as  they  live  themselves.  And  so  I 
rely  on  my  whims,  my  follies,  and  my  cherished  defects 
and  faults,  to  preserve  me  from  the  tiresome  attentions 
of  being  sought  after  in  marriage." 

*  You  shall  be  perfectly  satisfied  on  that  point,  made- 
moiselle," replied  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  « if,  unfortu- 
nately (and  it  is  much  to  be  feared),  the  report  should 
spread  abroad  of  your  having  so  entirely  discarded  all 
regard  to  appearances  and  propriety  as  to  be  seen  return- 
ing home  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  (as  I  am  told 
you  have  been),  though,  I  confess,  I  neither  can  nor  dare 
give  credit  to  such  an  enormity." 

"Nay,  madame,  but  you  are  wrong  in  refusing  your 
belief  ;  for  it  is  —  " 

"  Then  you  confess  it! "  exclaimed  the  princess. 
"I  never  disown  my  actions,  madame;  I  did  return 
home  this  morning  at  eight  o'clock." 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  the  princess,  "  you  hear  her  »  " 
ex1claimed  M-  d'Aigrigny,  m  an  undertone. 
Ah     echoed  the  baron,  in  a  false  and  subtle  voice. 
"An !    murmured  the  doctor,  with  a  deep  sigh. 
As  the  mingled  lamentations  arose,  Adrienne  was  on 
the  point  of  speaking,  with  a  view  of  justifying  herself; 
but  by  the  slightly  contemptuous  curl  of  her  lip  it  was 
evident  she  afterwards  disdained  all  explanation. 

"  And  so  this  disgraceful  report  is  really  true  ? "  re- 
sumed the  princess.    "Ah,  mademoiselle,  although  you 
have  long  taught  me  to  be  astonished  at  nothing  you  do 
it  required  your  audacious  reply  to  convince  me  of  the 
present  flagrant  violation  of  decency  and  propriety !  " 
"I  have  always  imagined,  madame,  that  there  ^ 


was 
167 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


much  greater  audacity  in  uttering  a  falsehood  than  in 
speaking  the  truth." 

"And  where  had  you  been,  mademoiselle  ?  and  upon 
what  business?" 

"  Madame,"  said  Adrienne,  interrupting  her  aunt, 
"  equal  to  my  determination  of  not  soiling  my  lips  with 
falsehood  is  my  resolution  of  not  repeating  that  which  I 
think  advisable  to  conceal.  Added  to  which,  I  should  be 
wanting  in  self-respect  could  I  condescend  to  answer  so 
repugnant  an  accusation.  Let  us  drop  the  subject,  if  you 
please ;  all  your  importunities  concerning  it  will  be  use- 
less; let  us  rather  go  back  to  the  point  we  were  dis- 
cussing. You  wish  to  impose  on  me  a  system  of  rigid 
surveillance,  while  I  intend  to  follow  my  own  inclinations 
as  to  quitting  the  pavilion  I  now  occupy,  and  to  dwell 
there  or  elsewhere,  according  as  my  inclinations  may 
decide.  Now  one  of  us  must  needs  yield  to  the  other ; 
which  shall  it  be?  — time  will  decide.  But  another 
thing  :  this  h8tel  is  mine.  It  is  indifferent  to  me  your 
remaining  here,  now  I  have  left  it ;  but  the  ground  floor 
is  uninhabited,  and  contains,  without  reckoning  the  re- 
ception-rooms, two  complete  suites  of  apartments,  which 
I  have  disposed  of  for  some  time." 

"  Really,  mademoiselle  ! "  said  the  princess,  casting  a 
look  of  surprise  at  M.  d'Aigrigny ;  then  adding,  ironi- 
cally, "  And  may  I  be  permitted  to  inquire  to  whom  you 
have  disposed  of  them  ?  " 

"  Madame,  I  require  them  for  the  accommodation  of 
three  persons  belonging  to  my  family." 

"  What,  in  Heaven's  name,  do  you  mean  ? "  exclaimed 
Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  becoming  still  more  and  more 
astonished. 

"  I  mean,  madame,  that  I  am  desirous  of  exercising 
the  rites  of  hospitality  towards  a  young  Indian  prince, 
my  relation  by  my  mother's  side.  He  will  arrive  here  m 
two  or  three  days,  and  I  wish  to  have  the  apartments 
ready  for  his  reception." 

168 


THE  REVOLT. 


"  Do  you  hear  this,  gentlemen  ?  "  inquired  M.  d'  Aigri- 
gny  (affecting  utter  amazement)  of  the  doctor  and  M. 
Tripeaud. 

"  This  passes  all  imagination  !  "  said  the  baron. 

"  Alas  ! "  said  the  doctor,  with  compunction,  "  the 
sentiment  is  generous  in  itself ;  but  still  this  wild  little 
head—  " 

"  Excellent,  indeed ! "  cried  the  princess.  "  Certainly 
I  cannot  prevent  you,  mademoiselle,  from  giving  utter- 
ance to  the  most  extravagant  desires,  but  it  is  to  be  hoped 
you  do  not  mean  to  stop  short  in  your  projects,  —  surely 
this  is  not  all  ?  " 

"  Not  quite,  madame !  I  have  this  morning  learned 
that  two  young  females,  also  my  relations  by  my 
mother,  —  two  young  girls  of  about  fifteen  years  of 
age,  —  orphans,  the  children  of  Marshal  Simon,  ar- 
rived in  Paris  yesterday,  after  a  long  journey,  and 
are  now  staying  with  the  wife  of  the  brave  soldier  who 
has  brought  them  hither  from  the  most  distant  part 
of  Siberia." 

At  these  words  M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  princess  sud- 
denly started,  and  surveyed  each  other  with  undisguised 
alarm  ;  so  little  did  they  anticipate  the  intelligence  of 
the  return  of  General  Simon's  daughters  reaching  the 
ears  of  Adrienne,  that  the  circumstance  was  a  perfect 
thunderbolt  to  them. 

"  You  are,  doubtless,  astonished  to  find  me  so  well 
informed,"  said  Adrienne;  "fortunately,  I  am  enabled 
to  promise  myself  the  power  of  surprising  you  still  more, 
shortly.  But,  to  return  to  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon :  you  must  feel  aware,  madame,  that  it  is  quite 
impossible  I  can  allow  them  to  be  a  burthen  to  the 
worthy  persons  with  whom  they  have  found  a  temporary 
asylum ;  and  although  the  people  are  as  honest  and 
good  as  they  are  industrious,  still  it  is  no  fitting  resi- 
dence for  my  young  relatives.  I,  therefore,  propose 
placing  them  in  one  of  the  suites  of  apartments  on 

169 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


the  ground  floor,  with  the  soldier's  wife,  who  will  make 
an  excellent  housekeeper  for  them." 

As  Adrienne  concluded,  M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  baron 
exchanged  looks,  while  the  latter  said  aloud : 

"  Decidedly  her  head  is  quite  turned  !  " 

Adrienne,  without  deigning  to  notice  M.  Tripeaud, 
proceeded : 

"  General  Simon  is  expected  to  arrive  in  Paris  every 
hour;  only  imagine  the  delight  it  would  be  to  me,  to 
present  to  him  his  two  sweet  children,  and  to  prove  that 
they  have  received  every  care  and  attention  !  To-morrow 
morning  I  will  send  the  necessary  milliners  and  dress- 
makers to  provide  them  with  a  suitable  wardrobe.  Oh,  I 
will  so  arrange  everything  that,  on  their  father's  return, 
they  shall  shine  forth  in  dazzling  loveliness !  I  am  told 
they  are  beautiful  as  angels ;  but  I,  profane  mortal  that 
I  am,  will  convert  them  into  loves." 

"  Pray,  mademoiselle,  have  you  quite  finished  your 
ecstasies  ? "  said  the  princess,  in  a  sardonic  tone,  her 
wrath  momentarily  increasing;  while  M.  d'Aigrigny, 
calm  and  outwardly  collected,  could  with  difficulty  sup- 
press his  mortal  agonies.  "  Pray  take  the  trouble  of 
recollecting,"  continued  the  princess,  addressing  herself 
to  Adrienne ;  "  cannot  you  continue  to  augment  this 
interesting  family  colony  with  some  stray  branch  of 
your  maternal  pedigree  you  may  have  overlooked  ? 
Upon  my  word,  no  queen  could  proceed  more  magnifi- 
cently than  you  propose  doing !  " 

"  And  in  good  truth,  madame,  I  purpose  bestowing  on 
my  family  a  truly  royal  reception,  such  a  one  as  is  due 
to  the  son  of  a  king  and  the  daughters  of  Marechal 
the  Due  de  Ligny.  It  is  so  charmihg  to  be  able  to 
add  to  other  luxuries  that  of  open,  free,  and  unbounded 
hospitality." 

"The  principle  is  not  to  be  found  fault  with,  cer- 
tainly," returned  the  princess,  becoming  more  and  more 
agitated ;  "  it  is  only  a  pity  that,  in  order  to  carry  out 

170 


THE  REVOLT. 


your  vast  ideas,  you  have  not  the  mines  of  Potosi  at  your 
command ! " 

"  Apropos  of  mines  and  vast  riches ;  that  is  precisely 
a  point  upon  which  I  was  desirous  of  conversing  with 
you,  madame,  and  I  scarcely  think  I  can  find  a  more  fit- 
ting occasion.  However  large  my  present  fortune  may 
be,  it  is  as  nothing  compared  with  the  immense  wealth 
which  may,  from  hour  to  hour,  be  expected  to  descend 
to  our  family ;  and  with  this  immediate  expectancy, 
perhaps,  madame,  you  will  be  less  severe  upon  what  you 
are  pleased  to  style  my  royal  prodigality." 

The  position  of  M.  d'Aigrigny  became  momentarily 
more  and  more  difficult  to  endure. 

The  affair  of  the  medals  was  so  important  that  he 
had  even  concealed  it  from  Doctor  Baleinier;  even 
when  requesting  his  aid  for  the  preservation  of  immense 
interests,  he  forbore  to  advert  to  this.  Neither  was  M. 
Tripeaud  better  informed  on  the  subject ;  and  the  prin- 
cess believed  she  had  so  completely  destroyed  every  paper 
belonging  to  Adrienne's  father,  which  could  have  given 
her  the  information  she  evidently  possessed  respecting 
the  accession  of  wealth  she  had  just  alluded  to,  that 
she  could  scarcely  credit  her  senses;  and  not  only 
did  she  join  in  the  consternation  experienced  by  the 
abbe,  of  finding  Mile,  de  Cardoville  mistress  of  a  secret 
so  carefully  concealed  from  her,  but  she  fully  partici- 
pated in  his  apprehensions  of  her  divulging  it.  Inter- 
rupting her  niece,  therefore,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Mademoiselle,  there  are  certain  family  matters  upon 
which  secrecy  should  be  observed ;  and,  although  unable 
to  understand  your  recent  allusion,  I  desire  you  will 
change  the  subject  of  your  conversation." 

"  Nay,  madame  !  I  understood  from  yourself  we  were 
now  entirely  a  family  party  ;  witness  the  not  very  amiable 
words  we  have  permitted  ourselves  to  give  and  to  take  !  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  it  is  useless  holding  any  further 
argument!     When  family  matters,  whether  mutually 

171 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


understood  and  admitted  or  not,  are  discussed,  it  is 
always  folly  to  enter  upon  them  unless  you  hold  every 
fact,  and  can  substantiate  what  you  advance." 

"  Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,  madame,  what  have  we 
been  discoursing  upon  for  the  last  hour,  if  it  be  not 
matters  of  interest  and  importance  ?  And,  really,  I 
cannot  understand  your  present  confusion  and  embar- 
rassment—  " 

"I  am  neither  astonished  nor  embarrassed,  made- 
moiselle ;  but,  after  the  wild  and  extravagant  things 
you  have  been  saying  for  the  last  two  hours,  it  is  no 
wonder  one  becomes  stupefied  and  bewildered." 

"  You  must  pardon  me,  madame ;  but  you  really  are 
very  considerably  agitated  and  confused,"  pursued 
Adrienne,  gazing  at  her  aunt  with  fixed  attention ; 
"  and  M.  d'Aigrigny  also,  which,  joined  to  certain  sus- 
picions I  have  not  yet  had  time  to  clear  up  —  "  Then, 
after  a  pause,  Adrienne  continued,  "  Have  I  then  judged 
aright  ?    We  shall  see  I" 

"  Mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  the  princess,  completely 
losing  all  further  self-command,  "  I  desire  —  I  command 
you  to  be  silent !  " 

"  Ah,  madame,"  said  Adrienne,  "  for  a  person  ordi- 
narily so  self-possessed,  you  betray  yourself  sadly !  " 

At  this  moment,  so  fraught  with  danger  to  the  wishes 
of  the  princess  and  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  chance  came 
most  opportunely  to  their  relief. 

The  door  suddenly  opened,  and  a  valet  de  chambre 
presented  himself,  with  so  terrified  and  agitated  a  coun- 
tenance that  the  princess  quickly  exclaimed  : 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Dubois  ?  " 

"  Your  pardon,  Madame  la  Princesse,"  returned  the 
man,  "  for  thus  intruding  against  your  positive  com- 
mands; but  the  commissary  of  police  is  below,  desiring 
to  speak  with  you  instantly ;  he  is  down-stairs,  and 
several  of  his  assistants  are  in  the  courtyard,  accom- 
panied by  a  party  of  soldiers." 

172 


THE  REVOLT. 


Spite  of  the  extreme  surprise  caused  by  this  novel 
incident,  the  princess  gladly  availed  herself  of  it  to  take 
prompt  measures,  in  concert  with  M.  d'Aigrigny,  relative 
to  the  threatening  disclosures  made  by  Adrienne,  and, 
rising,  she  said : 

"  M.  d'Aigrigny,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  accom- 
pany me  while  I  go  to  ascertain  the  meaning  of  this 
visit  from  the  police  ?" 

M.  d'Aigrigny  then  followed  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier 
into  the  adjoining  apartment. 


173 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT  -  DIZIER.  —  TREACHERY. 

The  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier,  accompanied  by  M 
d  Aigrigny  and  the  servant,  stopped  in  the  room  adioin- 
mg  that  in  which  they  had  left  Adrienne,  M.  Tripeaud 
and  the  doctor.  r  9 

"Where  is  the  commissary  of  police?"  inquired  she 
oi  the  valet  de  chambre,  who  had  announced  to  her  the 
arrival  of  that  functionary. 

"  He  is  in  the  blue  salon,  madame." 
"  Then,  ask  him  from  me  to  be  so  kind  as  to  wait  for 
a  tew  moments." 

The  valet  de  chambre  bowed,  and  left  the  apartment 
tit   Zft- Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  came  suddenly  up  to 
M.  d  Aigrigny,  whose  countenance,  usually  firm  and 
haughty,  was  pale  and  downcast. 

"  You  see,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  hasty  tone,  "  Adrienne 
knows  all  now.  What  are  we  to  do?  What  is  to  be 
done  r 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  the  abbs',  with  a  fixed  and 
absorbed  look.    «  This  discovery  is  a  terrible  blow  " 
"  All  is  lost,  then  ? " 

"There  is  but  one  means  of  safety  left "  said  M 
d  Aigrigny,  «  and  that  is  —  the  doctor. 

"But  really?"  exclaimed  the  princess;  "so  sud- 
denly?   This  very  day  ?  " 

_  "  Two  hours  hence  it  will  be  too  late.    This  idiot  of  a 
girl  will  have  seen  the  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon." 
"  But,  Frederic,  it  is  impossible.    M.  Baleinier  will 

174 


TREACHERY. 


never  agree,  —  he  will  have  all  his  preparations  to  make, 
which  should  be  done  after  the  interrogatory  of  this 
morning." 

"  That  cannot  now  be  thought  of,"  replied  the  abbe, 
quickly ;  "  the  doctor  must  do  it  now,  at  any  and  all 
risk." 

"  But  with  what  excuse  ? " 

"  I  will  endeavour  to  find  one." 

"  Supposing  that  you  hit  upon  some  pretext,  Frederic, 
if  we  must  act  to-day  nothing  is  prepared  —  down  there." 

"Oh,  rely  upon  it,  by  habitual  precaution  they  are 
always  ready." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  forewarn  the  doctor  at  this  very 
moment  ? "  replied  the  princess. 

"  To  ask  him,  would  awaken  your  niece's  suspicions," 
said  D'Aigrigny ;  "  and  that  must  carefully  be  avoided." 

"Unquestionably,"  replied  the  princess,  "this  confi- 
dence is  one  of  our  greatest  resources." 

"  There  is  one  way,"  said  the  abbe,  suddenly  ;  "  I  will 
write^  a  few  lines  to  Baleinier.    One  of  your  people  will 

take  it  to  him  as  if  it  came  from  somewhere  else  from 

some  sick  person  in  great  haste." 

^  "  An  excellent  idea  !  "  said  the  princess.  "  You  are 
right.  Here  upon  the  table  are  writing  materials,— 
quick,  quick  !    But  will  the  doctor  succeed  ?  " 

"To  say  the  truth  I  can  hardly  hope  it,"  said  the 
marquis,  sitting  down  to  the  table  with  anger  almost 
irrepressible.  «  Thanks  to  this  interrogatory,  which  has, 
indeed,  been  beyond  our  hopes,  and  which  our  man  con- 
cealed behind  the  screen  has  doubtless  taken  down  care- 
fully in  shorthand,  —  thanks  to  the  violent  scenes  which 
must  necessarily  take  place  to-morrow  and  next  day,  the 
doctor,  using  skilful  precautions,  will  be  able  to  act  with 
the  most  perfect  certainty.  But  to  ask  him  that  to-day 
—  at  this  moment  — really,  Herminie,  it  is  a  folly  to 
think  of  it ! "  And  the  marquis  tossed  away  the  pen 
he  held  in  his  hand,  and  then  added,  with  a  deep  and 

175 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


bitter  expression  of  irritation,  "  At  the  very  moment  of 
success,  behold  all  our  hopes  crushed !  Ah,  the  conse- 
quences of  all  this  are  incalculable !  Your  niece  has 
done  us  immense  mischief !  —  immense  mischief !  " 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  intense  anger,  the 
implacable  hate,  with  which  M.  d'Aigrigny  pronounced 
these  last  words. 

"  Frederic ! "  exclaimed  the  princess,  with  anxiety, 
and  striking  her  hand  quickly  on  the  hand  of  the 
abbe\  "  I  entreat  you  not  to  despair  yet ;  the  doctor's 
mind  is  so  fertile  in  resources,  and  he  is  so  completely 
devoted  to  us,  —  let  us  try  once  more." 

"  Well,  there  is  at  least  the  chance,"  said  the  abbe\ 
resuming  the  pen. 

"  Viewing  things  at  the  worst,"  said  the  princess, 
"  suppose  that  Adrienne  does  go  this  evening  to  Marshal 
Simon's  daughters,  it  is  just  possible  that  she  will  not 
find  them." 

"  We  cannot  hope  that ;  it  is  impossible  that  Rodin's 
orders  could  be  so  quickly  executed.  If  so,  we  should 
have  received  the  information." 

"  That  is  true ;  but  write  to  the  doctor.  I  will  send 
Dubois  to  you,  and  he  will  take  your  letter.  Courage, 
Frederic,  and  we  shall  still  bring  this  intractable  girl  to 
her  senses."  Then  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  added,  with 
bitter  rage,  "  Oh,  Adrienne !  Adrienne !  you  shall  pay 
dearly  for  the  insolent  sarcasms  and  anguish  you  have 
caused  us." 

As  she  was  leaving  the  room  the  princess  turned 
around  and  said  to  M.  d'Aigrigny : 

"  Wait  for  me  here ;  I  will  let  you  know  what  the 
commissary  of  police's  visit  means,  and  we  will  return 
to  the  room  together." 

The  princess  then  left  the  apartment.  M.  d'Aigrigny 
wrote  some  hasty  words  with  a  tremulous  hand. 


176 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE  SNARE. 

After  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  and  the  marquis  had 
left  the  room,  Adrienne  had  remained  in  her  aunt's 
cabinet  with  M.  Baleinier  and  Baron  Tripeaud. 

When  she  heard  the  announcement  of  the  arrival  of 
the  commissary,  Mile,  de  Cardoville  felt  very  uneasy, 
for  she  had  no  doubt  that,  as  Agricola  had  feared,  the 
magistrate  had  come  to  demand  authority  for  making 
a  search  in  the  hdtel  and  the  pavilion,  in  order  to  find 
the  smith  whom  they  believed  to  be  hidden  there.  Al- 
though she  believed  Agricola's  hiding-place  quite  secret, 
yet  Adrienne  was  not  at  her  ease  ;  and  by  way  of  making 
sure  in  case  of  an  unfortunate  result,  she  had  before  her 
a  very  excellent  opportunity  for  recommending  her  pro- 
tege to  the  doctor,  the  intimate  friend,  as  we  have 
already  said,  of  one  of  the  most  influential  ministers  of 
the  day. 

The  young  lady  went  up  to  the  doctor,  who  was  dis- 
coursing in  a  low  tone  with  the  baron,  and  in  her  most 
gentle  and  insinuating  voice  said : 

"  My  dear  Doctor  Baleinier,  I  wish  to  say  two  words 
to  you ; "  and  as  she  spoke  she  looked  towards  a  deep 
recess  in  the  window. 

"  I.a.m  at  y°ur  order,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  doc- 
tor, rising  and  following  Adrienne  to  the  window. 

M.  Tripeaud,  who  felt  himself  no  longer  supported  by 
the  presence  of  the  abbe,  and  who  was  very  much  fright- 

177 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


ened  of  the  young  lady,  was  delighted  at  this  diversion, 
and,  that  he  might  appear  to  be  doing  something,  he 
placed  himself  before  a  sacred  painting,  which  it  seemed 
as  though  he  was  never  weary  of  admiring. 

When  Mile,  de  Cardoville  was  so  far  away  from  the 
baron  that  he  could  not  overhear  her,  she  said  to  the 
doctor,  who  with  his  habitual  bland  smile  was  awaiting 
until  she  addressed  him  : 

«  My  good  doctor,  you  are  my  friend,  as  you  were  my 
father's.  Just  now,  in  spite  of  the  difficulty  of  your 
position,  you  showed  yourself  most  courageously  my  only 
partisan." 

"  Not  at  all,  mademoiselle ;  pray  do  not  say  such  a 
thing,"  said  the  doctor,  affecting  an  angry  tone.  "  Peste  ! 
you  will  get  me  into  a  terrible  mess !  Pray  not  a  word 
of  that, —  not  a  word!  Vade  retro  SatanasI  —  that  is, 
pray  leave  me  alone,  dear  little  demon  as  you  are ! " 

"  Fear  not, "  said  Adrienne,  with  a  smile ;  "  I  will  not 
compromise  you  ;  but  do  allow  me  to  remind  you  how 
often  you  have  made  me  an  offer  of  your  services  — 
have  spoken  to  me  of  your  devotion." 

"  Put  me  to  the  test,  and  see  if  I  will  keep  my  word 
or  not." 

"  Well,  then,  give  me  a  proof  this  moment,"  said 
Adrienne,  quickly. 

"  That  I  will,  for  I  like  so  much  to  be  taken  at  my 
word !    What  can  I  do  for  you  ? " 

"  You  are  still  very  intimate  with  your  friend  the 
minister  ?  "  , 

"  I  am,  and  attending  him  for  a  hoarseness,  which 
always  comes  on  him  the  day  before  he  is  called  on  to 
give  his  ministerial  development.    He  rather  likes  it." 

"  You  must  procure  from  your  minister  something 
very  important  for  me." 

«  For  you  !    In  what  way  ?  " 

The  valet  de  chambre  entered,  and,  handing  a  letter  to 
M.  Baleinier,  said  to  him : 

178 


THE  SNARE. 


"  A  strange  servant  has  this  moment  brought  this 
letter  for  you,  sir,— it  is  in  great  haste." 

The  doctor  took  the  letter,  and  the  valet  de  chambre 
leit  the  room. 

"These  are  the  disagreeables  of  merit,"  said  Adrienne, 
smilingly.  «  They  will  not  leave  for  a  moment's  repose 
my  poor  dear  doctor." 

"Oh,  do  not  mention  it,  mademoiselle!"  said  the 
doctor,  who  could  not  repress  a  gesture  of  surprise  when 
he  recognised  M.  d'Aigrigny's  writing.  «  These  plagues 
ot  sick  persons  really  believe  we  are  made  of  iron,  and 
can  give  them  all  the  health  they  require;  they  are 
really  merciless.  But  you  will  allow  me,  mademoi- 
selle !  said  M.  Baleinier,  looking  at  Adrienne  before  he 
unsealed  the  letter. 

head16'  ^  Card°ville  replied  b^  a  gracious  nod  of  the 

The  Marquis  d'Aigrigny's  letter  was  not  long.  The 
doctor  perused  it  in  a  moment,  and,  in  spite  of  his  ha- 
bitual prudence,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said,  in  a 
quick  tone: 

"  To-day  —  it  is  impossible  !    The  man  is  mad." 

"  Oh  no  doubt  it  is  some  poor  invalid,  who  has  placed 
all  his  hope  m  you  — who  is  waiting  for,  calling  for, 
you.  bo  pray,  my  dear  M.  Baleinier,  be  kind,  and  do 
not  reject  his  prayer;  it  is  so  delightful  to  fulfil  the 
confidence  which  any  one  has  in  you  ! " 

There  was  something  at  the  same  time  so  remarkably 
congruous,  and  at  the  same  time  so  contradictory,  in  the 
subject  of  this  letter,  written  at  the  very  moment  to  the 
doctor  by  Adnenne's  most  implacable  enemy,  and  the  lan- 
guage of  commiseration  which  she  had  used  in  so  tender 
a  voice,  that  Doctor  Baleinier  was  struck  by  it  He 
looked  at  mademoiselle  with  an  air  almost  embarrassed 
and  replied  : 

"It  is  indeed  one  of  my  patients,  who  relies  much 
upon  me,  — indeed  too  much,  — for  he  asks  of  me  an 

179 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


impossibility.  But  why  should  you  interest  yourself  in 
an  unknown  person  ? " 

"  If  he  is  unhappy,  I  do  know  him.  My  protege*,  for 
whom  I  request  your  interference  with  the  minister,  was 
almost  as  little  known  to  me,  and  now  I  am  interested 
in  him  to  the  last  degree ;  for,  if  I  must  tell  you,  my 
protege  is  the  son  of  the  worthy  old  veteran  who  has 
conducted  hither  the  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon  from 
the  depths  of  Siberia." 

"  What !    Your  protege  is — " 

"  A  worthy  artisan,  the  support  of  his  family;  but  I 
ought  to  tell  you  everything.  This  is  the  way  the  whole 
affair  has  gone  on  — " 

The  confidence  which  Adrienne  was  about  to  repose  in 
the  doctor  was  interrupted  by  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier, 
who,  followed  by  M.  d'Aigrigny,  opened  the  door  of  the 
closet  with  considerable  violence. 

On  the  physiognomy  of  the  princess  there  was  an 
expression  of  infernal  delight,  hardly  concealed  under 
the  mask  of  highly  wrought  indignation. 

M.  d'Aigrigny,  as  he  entered,  gave  Doctor  Baleinier  a 
look  of  inquiry  and  uneasiness. 

The  doctor  replied,  by  a  shake  of  the  head,  in  the 
negative. 

The  abbe  bit  his  lips  in  mute  rage ;  for,  having  built 
his  last  hopes  on  the  doctor,  he  now  believed  his  plans 
ruined  for  ever,  in  spite  of  the  fresh  blow  which  the 
princess  was  about  to  give  to  Adrienne. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  with  a 
harsh  and  hasty  tone,  for  she  was  nearly  choking  with 
her  malevolent  satisfaction,  "  gentlemen,  pray  be*  seated. 
I  have  strange  news,  curious  intelligence  to  give  you 
with  respect  to  this  —  person." 

And  she  looked  at  her  niece  with  an  air  of  hatred  and 
contempt  impossible  to  portray. 

"  What !  What  about  my  dear  child  ?  What  now  ? 
What  next?"  said  M.  Baleinier,  with  a  soothing  air, 

180 


THE  SNARE. 


before  leaving  the  window  where  he  was  with  Adrienne. 
"  Whatever  happens  rely  on  me." 

And  so  saying,  the  doctor  went  and  seated  himself 
between  M.  d'Aigrigny  and  M.  Tripeaud. 

At  the  insolent  address  of  her  aunt,  Mile,  de  Cardo- 
ville  had  raised  her  head  disdainfully.  Her  colour  had 
mounted,  and,  impatient  and  irritated  at  the  new  attacks 
which  threatened  her,  she  came  towards  the  table  where 
the  princess  was  seated,  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  emotion 
to  Doctor  Baleinier : 

"  I  shall  wait  for  you  at  home,  as  soon  as  you  can 
come,  my  dear  doctor.  You  know  I  must  speak  to 
you."  And  Adrienne  walked  towards  the  armchair  in 
which  she  had  left  her  bonnet. 

The  princess  rose  suddenly,  exclaiming : 

"  What  are  you  doing,  mademoiselle  ? " 

"  I  am  going  away,  madame.  You  have  signified  to 
me  your  pleasure,  and  I  have  signified  mine  to  you; 
that  will  suffice.  As  to  the  affairs  of  interest,  I  shall 
empower  some  one  to  make  my  claims." 

Mile,  de  Cardoville  took  up  her  bonnet. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  seeing  her  prey  about  to 
escape  her,  ran  hastily  towards  her  niece,  and,  throwing 
off  all  appearance,  seized  her  arm  violently  with  her 
convulsed  hand,  and  said: 

"  Stay ! " 

"Oh,  madame!"  said  Adrienne,  in  an  accent  of 
excessive  disdain,  "  has  it  come  to  this  ? " 

"  You  wish  to  escape  you  are  afraid  !  "  said  Madame 
de  baint-Dizier,  looking  at  her  with  an  air  of  contempt 

With  the  words,  »  You  are  afraid,"  it  would  have 
been  possible  to  make  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  dare  the 
fury  of  a  furnace.  Disengaging  her  arm  from  the  grasp 
of  her  aunt,  with  a  gesture  full  of  nobleness  and  pride, 
she  threw  her  bonnet  back  again  on  the  armchair,  and, 
returning  to  the  table,  said  to  the  princess,  with  dignity : 

"  There  is  something  even  stronger  than  the  profound 

181 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


disgust  with  which  all  this  inspires  me,  and  it  is  the 
fear  of  being  accused  of  cowardice.  Speak,  madame ! 
I  hear  you."  And  with  head  erect,  complexion  suffused, 
the  look  half  concealed  by  a  tear  of  indignation,  arms 
crossed  over  her  bosom,  which,  in  spite  of  herself,  palpi- 
tated with  deep  emotion,  tapping  the  carpet  with  her 
pretty  foot,  Adrienne  fixed  upon  her  aunt  an  eye  of 
confidence  and  determination. 

The  princess  was  anxious  to  distil,  drop  by  drop,  the 
yenom  with  which  she  was  gorged,  and  to  make  her 
victim  suffer  as  long  as  possible,  sure  that  she  would 
not  escape  her. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  in  a 
restrained  voice,  "  I  will  tell  you  what  has  occurred.  I 
was  informed  that  the  commissary  of  police  desired  to 
speak  to  me,  and  I  went  to  him.  He  apologised,  with 
pain,  for  the  necessity  of  discharging  an  important  duty. 
A  man,  against  whom  a  warrant  had  been  issued,  had 
been  seen  to  enter  the  pavilion  in  the  garden  —  " 

Adrienne  started,  —  there  was  no  longer  any  doubt 
but  that  it  was  Agricola's  affair ;  but  she  remained 
quiet,  relying  on  the  security  of  the  hiding-place  in 
which  she  had  ordered  him  to  be  hid. 

"  The  official,"  continued  the  princess,  "  asked  me  to 
allow  him  to  make  a  search  for  this  man,  either  in  the 
hotel  or  the  pavilion.  He  had  a  right  to  do  so.  I 
begged  him  to  begin  with  the  pavilion,  and  I  accom- 
panied him.  In  spite  of  the  unjustifiable  conduct  of 
mademoiselle,  I  did  not  for  a  moment  think,  I  must  say, 
or  believe,  that  she  had  mixed  herself  up  in  any  way 
with  any  low  affair  with  the  police.    I  was  deceived." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  madame  ?"  exclaimed  Adrienne. 

"  You  will  hear,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess,  with 
an  air  of  triumph.  "  Every  one  has  his  turn.  A  short 
time  since  and  you  were  full  of  mockery  and  disdain.  I 
went  with  the  commissary,  I  say,  in  his  search.  We 
entered  the  pavilion,  and  I  will  allow  you  to  guess  my 

182 


THE  SNARE. 


astonishment,  and  the  amazement  of  the  magistrate,  at 
the  sight  of  the  three  creatures  we  saw  attired  like 
girls  at  the  theatre.  The  fact  has  been  at  my  request 
noted  down  in  the  depositions,  for  such  preposterous 
extravagancies  ought  to  be  made  known  to  everybody." 

"Madame  la  Princesse  has  done  wisely,"  said  M. 
Tripeaud,  with  a  bow.  "  It  was  quite  right  to  instruct 
Justice  on  this  point." 

Adrienne,  too  much  interested  in  the  fate  of  the 
artisan  to  think  of  replying  either  to  Tripeaud  or  to 
Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  listened  in  silence  to  conceal 
her  disquietude. 

"  The  magistrate,"  continued  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier, 
"began  by  closely  interrogating  the  young  girls,  and 
inquiring  if  any  man  had  been,  to  their  knowledge, 
introduced  into  the  pavilion  occupied  by  mademoiselle, 
and  they  replied  with  singular  audacity  that  they  had 
not  seen  any  person  enter." 

"  Good,  honest-hearted  girls  !  "  thought  Mile,  de  Cardo- 
ville,  with  satisfaction;  "then  the  poor  workman  is 
saved,  and  Doctor  Baleinier's  protection  will  effect  the 
rest." 

"Fortunately,"  replied  the  princess,  "one  of  my 
women,  Madame  Grivois,  had  accompanied  me.  This 
worthy  person,  recollecting  that  she  had  seen  mademoi- 
selle come  in  this  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  said  naive- 
ment  to  the  magistrate  that  the  man  they  were  looking 
for  might  very  easily  have  entered  by  the  small  garden 
door,  which,  perhaps,  mademoiselle  had,  by  mistake,  left 
open  when  she  entered." 

"  It  would  have  been  advisable,  Madame  la  Princesse," 
said  Tripeaud,  "  to  have  mentioned,  also,  in  the  proees 
verbal,  that  mademoiselle  had  returned  home  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"I  see  no  occasion  for  that,"  said  the  doctor,  who 
played  his  part  to  admiration ;  "  that  could  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  object  of  the  commissary's  search." 

183 


THE  WANDERING  JEW, 


"  But,  doctor  —  "  said  Tripeaud. 

"  But,  baron,"  replied  Doctor  Baleinier,  in  a  decided 
tone,  "  that  is  my  opinion." 

"  It  is  not  mine,  doctor,"  added  the  princess.  "  I,  as 
well  as  M.  Tripeaud,  have  thought  it  was  important  that 
the  thing  should  be  inserted  in  the  proces  verbal ;  and 
I  saw,  by  the  confused  and  pained  appearance  of  the 
magistrate,  how  much  he  was  distressed  at  having  to 
make  an  entry  of  such  scandalous  conduct  in  a  young 
person  placed  in  so  high  a  position  in  society." 

"  Ah,  doubtless,  madame ! "  said  Adrienne,  whose 
patience  was  exhausted.  "  And  I  can  believe  your  own 
modesty  almost  equal  to  that  of  this  abashed  com- 
missary of  police.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  your 
mental  conscience  was  alarmed  a  little  too  soon;  you 
might  both  have  reflected  that  there  was  nothing  extraor- 
dinary in  the  fact  of  my  going  out  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  returning  home  at  eight  o'clock." 

"  The  excuse  is  somewhat  tardy,  but  not  the  less 
clever,"  said  the  princess,  spitefully. 

"  I  make  no  excuse,  madame ! "  replied  Adrienne, 
haughtily.  "  But,  as  M.  Baleinier  has  kindly  said  a 
word  in  my  behalf  through  friendship  for  me,  I  give 
the  simple  explanation  of  a  fact,  which  I  did  not  feel 
myself  bound  to  apologise  for  before  you." 

"  Then  the  fact  will  remain  in  the  deposition  until 
mademoiselle  gives  the  explanation,"  said  M.  Tripeaud. 

The  Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  leaning  his  forehead  on  his 
hands,  remained  almost  unconscious  of  this  scene,  so 
entirely  was  he  absorbed  with  all  the  consequences  he 
foresaw  would  arise  from  the  approaching  interview  be- 
tween Mile,  de  Cardoville  and  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon,  for  he  could  not  venture  to  prohibit  Adrienne's 
going  to  them,  as  she  had  engaged  to  do,  that  evening. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  resumed : 

"  The  circumstance  which  so  greatly  shocked  the  com- 
missary is  as  nothing  to  that  which  remains  for  me  to 

184 


THE  SNARE. 


tell  you,  gentlemen.  We  searched  the  pavilion  through- 
out without  finding  any  one,  when,  just  as  we  were  about 
quitting  the  sleeping  apartment  of  Mile.  Adrienne,  for 
we  had  reserved  our  visit  to  this  chamber  till  the  last, 
Madame  Grivois  drew  my  attention  to  a  portion  of  the 
gilt  moulding  surrounding  a  false  door,  which  did  not 
appear  to  join  as  closely  as  the  rest.  We  directed  the 
visiting  officer  to  this  peculiarity ;  his  people  examined 
it,  —  tried  it  by  pressing  against  it  in  every  direction, 
when  a  panel  suddenly  slipped  away  and  discovered — 
how  shall  I  bring  myself  to  say  what  ?  No,  never  can 
my  tongue  declare  the  disgraceful,  the  shameful  tale  ! 
I  cannot,  I  dare  not  utter  it !  " 

"  Then,  madame, "  said  Adrienne,  who  found  to  her 
great  chagrin  that  Agricola's  hiding-place  had  been  dis- 
covered, "  I  dare  take  upon  myself  to  spare  you  the 
recital  which  so  much  offends  your  delicacy.  I  merely 
request  that  what  I  am  about  to  say  may  not  be  construed 
into  any  desire  or  intention  of  justifying  myself." 

^  Yet,  methinks,  mademoiselle,"  cried  Madame  de 
Saint-Dizier,  with  a  bitter  smile  of  contempt,  "the 
circumstance  of  a  man  being  found  concealed  in  your 
bedchamber  may  be  deemed  worthy  of  explanation  by 
any  young  person  careful  of  her  reputation." 

"  A  man  hid  in  her  bedchamber !  "  exclaimed  the 
Marquis  d'Aigrigny,  suddenly  rising  from  his  medita- 
tive attitude,  with  an  air  of  indignation  which  barely 
covered  the  intense  and  cruel  joy  with  which  he  heard 
the  news. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  added  Baron  Tripeaud.  "  A  man 
in  the  sleeping  apartment  of  mademoiselle  !  I  trust  that 
fact  was  also  entered  into  the  proces  verbal  ?  " 

"It  was!    It  was!"  replied  the  princess,  with  a 
triumphant  air. 

#  "  But  this  man,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  hypocritical 
air,  "was  doubtless  a  common  thief,  a  robber,  who 
had  surreptitiously  entered ;  the  thing  explains  itself 

185 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


every  other  suspicion  were  —  No,  no,  the  thing  is  not 
credible ! " 

«  Your  extreme  indulgence  for  Mile.  Adrienne  leads 
you  astray,  M.  Baleinier,"  observed  the  princess,  in  a  dry, 
sarcastic  tone. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  interposed  Tripeaud  ;  "  the  sort  of  thieves 
who  are  found  hid  in  young  ladies'  bedrooms  are  a  very 
distinct  class  ;  usually  very  young,  very  handsome,  and 
extremely  rich." 

"  You  are  also  mistaken,  monsieur,  in  the  present 
case,"  replied  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier, "  Mile.  Adrienne 
does  not  possess  such  elevated  views,  but  proves  that  a 
young  woman  may  not  only  be  criminal,  but  ignobly  so. 
Indeed,  I  am  no  longer  astonished  at  the  sympathy  ma- 
demoiselle so  openly  expresses  for  the  lower  orders  of 
people  ;  and  it  adds  considerably  to  the  touching  and 
pathetic  part  of  this  affair,  that  the  man  caught  in  her 
private  apartment  was  dressed  in  a  common  blouse." 

"  A  blouse !  "  exclaimed  the  baron,  with  the  most  su- 
preme disgust.  "  Why,  he  must  have  been  quite  a  low 
fellow  !  Really,  it  makes  one's  hair  stand  on  end  only  to 
hear  of  such  things !  " 

"The  man  is  a  working  smith,"  said  the  princess; 
"he  confesses  it;  and,  to  do  him  justice,  he  really  is  a 
very  good-looking  individual^ and,  doubtless,  following  out 
the  singular  adoration  mademoiselle  professes  for  beauty 
in  general  —  " 

"  Enough,  madame,  enough !  "  said  Adrienne,  who,  dis- 
daining to  reply,  had  hitherto  listened  with  fast  increasing 
indignation  to  her  aunt's  bitter  taunts  and  malevolent 
insinuations.  "  I  was,  a  little  while  ago,  about  to  excul- 
pate myself  from  one  of  your  odious  aspersions ;  I  will 
not  expose  myself  a  second  time  to  a  similar  weakness, 
—  one  word  only,  madame,  this  honest  and  loyal  artisan 
has  no  doubt  been  arrested  ? " 

"Most  assuredly!  And  taken  to  prison  under  a 
strong  escort.     That  grieves  you  to  the  heart,  does 

186 


THE  SNARE. 


it  not,  mademoiselle  ? "  answered  the  princess,  in  a 
triumphant  tone.  "  Your  tender  concern  for  this  in- 
teresting smith  must  be  great  indeed,  since  it  actually 
deprives  you  of  your  ironical  assurance." 

"  Yes,  madame  ;  for  I  have  more  important  and  weighty 
matters  to  attend  to  than  to  indulge  myself  with  railing 
even  at  that  which  is  both  hateful  and  ridiculous,"  an- 
swered Adrienne,  whose  fast-gathering  tears  filled  her 
eyes  as  she  thought  of  the  cruel  uneasiness  the  imprison- 
ment of  Agricola  would  occasion  his  family  ;  and  taking 
up  her  hat,  she  placed  it  on  her  head,  tied  the  ribands  of 
it,  and,  addressing  herself  to  the  doctor,  she  said,  "  M. 
Baleinier,  a  little  while  ago  I  asked  your  protection  and 
interest  with  the  minister  ?  " 

"  You  did,  mademoiselle,  and  I  should  be  most  happy 
to  mediate  for  you  with  him  in  any  manner  you  may 
desire." 

"  Is  your  carriage  below  ? " 

"  It  is,  mademoiselle ! "  replied  the  doctor,  greatly 
surprised. 

"  Will  you,  then,  do  me  the  favour  to  conduct  me  at 
once  to  the  minister  ?  Presented  by  you,  he  will  not 
refuse  me  the  favour,  or  rather  the  justice,  I  have  to  ask 
at  his  hands." 

"  How,  mademoiselle  !  "  said  the  princess  ;  "  do  you 
presume  to  form  such  a  determination  without  my 
orders,  after  what  has  just  occurred  ?  Your  conduct 
passes  all  bounds  !  " 

"  It  is,  indeed,  a  pitiable  extent  of  misconduct,"  added 
M.  Tripeaud ;  "  but  we  must  not  be  surprised  at  any- 
thing ! " 

D'Aigrigny  started  as  Adrienne  inquired  of  the  doctor 
whether  his  carriage  was  in  waiting.  A  gleam  of  joy- 
ous, unhoped-for  satisfaction  shone  in  his  eye,  and 
scarcely  could  he  restrain  his  violent  emotion  when 
casting  a  rapid  and  significant  glance  at  the  doctor, 
who  returned  the  look  by  twice  dropping  his  eyelids 

187 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


in  token  of  comprehending  and  consenting  to  his  wish. 
When,  therefore,  the  princess  added,  in  a  wrathful  tone, 
addressing  Adrienne : 

"Mademoiselle,  I  totally  forbid  your  quitting  this 
apartment ! " 

M.  d'Aigrigny  observed  to  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier, 
with  a  peculiar  inflection  of  voice : 

"  I  think,  madame,  we  may  venture  to  entrust  Mile. 
Adrienne  to  the  care  of  our  worthy  doctor." 

The  marquis  pronounced  these  last  words  in  so  sig- 
nificant a  manner  that  the  princess,  having  scrutinised 
alternately  his  countenance,  and  that  of  M.  Baleinier, 
comprehended  the  proposed  scheme,  and  her  whole 
physiognomy  became  radiant  with  joy. 

Not  only  had  all  this  passed  more  rapidly  than  we  can 
describe,  but  evening  was  closing  in,  and  Adrienne,  en- 
tirely preoccupied  in  the  painful  consideration  of  Agricola 
and  his  family,  perceived  not  the  various  signs  exchanged 
between  the  princess,  the  doctor,  and  the  abbe' ;  nor, 
indeed,  had  she  even  remarked  them,  would  she  have 
been  able  to  guess  at  their  meaning. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  however,  not  choosing  to 
appear  to  yield  too  easily  to  the  observation  made  by 
the  marquis,  continued : 

"  Spite  of  the  evident  indulgence  M.  le  Docteur  is 
disposed  to  show  to  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  I  still  see  no 
positive  reason  to  object  to  her  accompanying  him ;  how- 
ever, I  must  beg  the  present  concession  may  not  be  used 
as  a  precedent,  as,  from  this  hour,  mademoiselle  will 
have  no  will  but  mine." 

"  Madame  la  Princesse,"  replied  the  doctor,  gravely,  as 
though  much  hurt  by  the  words  of  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier,  «  you  must  pardon  me,  if  I  say  I  do  not  consider 
I  have  exhibited  any  excessive  leaning  towards  Mile,  de 
Cardoville.  I  have  been  just,  nothing  more.  I  am  now 
ready  to  conduct  her  to  the  minister,  if  she  wishes  it. 
I  am  entirely  ignorant  what  it  is  she  wishes  to  solicit ; 

188 


THE  SNARE. 


but  I  believe  her  incapable  of  abusing  the  confidence  she 
knows  I  have  in  her,  by  inducing  me  to  support  any 
unworthy  recommendation." 

Adrienne  much  affected,  held  out  her  hand  with  frank 
cordiality  to  the  doctor,  saying  : 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  my  excellent  friend ;  you  will 
thank  me  for  the  part  you  take,  for  in  obliging  me  you 
are  sharing  in  the  delights  of  performing  a  really  good 
action." 

Tripeaud,  who  was  not  in  the  secret  of  the  recently 
contrived  scheme  between  the  doctor  and  the  abbe*,  said 
to  the  latter,  in  a  low  tone,  and  with  a  puzzled  look : 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  let  her  depart  ? " 

"Yes,  yes!"  replied  M.  d'Aigrigny,  hastily,  feigning 
to  listen  to  the  princess,  who  was  about  to  speak. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had,  in  fact,  risen  from  her 
chair,  and  advancing  towards  her  niece  said,  in  a  slow 
and  measured  tone,  laying  great  emphasis  on  each  word : 

"  One  word  more,  mademoiselle  !  One  other  word  in 
the  presence  of  these  gentlemen  !  Answer  me  !  Are 
you,  spite  of  all  the  terrible  charges  which  are  now 
against  you,  still  resolved  to  refuse  to  acknowledge 
my  authority,  and  to  reject  my  control  ?  " 

"  I  am,  madame  !  " 

"  And,  notwithstanding  the  disgraceful  exposure  which 
has  taken  place,  your  intention  of  removing  from  my 
guardianship  is  still  the  same  ?  " 

"  It  is,  madame  !  " 

"  And  you  positively  refuse  to  submit  yourself  to  the 
secret  and  decorous  mode  of  life  I  am  desirous  of 
prescribing  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  madame,  that  I  should  quit 
this  house  to  live  where  and  in  what  manner  I  pleased." 

"  And  this  is  your  final  resolve  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  unalterable  determination  !  " 

"  Reflect !  It  is  most  important  to  yourself  to  weigh 
the  matter  well,  —  have  a  care  ! " 

189 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  I  have  told  you  niy  resolution  once,  madame.  I 
never  repeat  my  words  unnecessarily." 

"  Gentlemen,  you  hear  her ! "  cried  the  princess ; 
"  and  you  are  my  witnesses,  that  I  have  tried  all  in 
my  power  to  bring  her  to  reason,  and  effect  a  reconcili- 
ation. Mile,  de  Cardoville  must,  therefore,  blame  herself 
alone  for  the  steps  which  so  audacious  a  disregard  of 
obedience  on  her  part  compels  me  to  adopt." 

"  So  be  it,  madame !  "  answered  Adrienne.  Then 
addressing  herself  to  M.  Baleinier,  she  said,  quickly, 
"  Come,  come,  my  dear  doctor !  I  am  dying  with 
impatience ;  let  us  depart  at  once ;  each  instant  we 
delay  is  causing  a  worthy  family  to  shed  bitter  tears." 

So  saying,  Adrienne,  followed  by  the  doctor,  hastily 
quitted  the  salon. 

A  servant  belonging  to  the  princess  caused  the  car- 
riage of  M.  Baleinier  to  draw  up,  and,  assisted  by  him, 
Adrienne  took  her  seat  in  the  vehicle,  without  observing 
that  the  doctor  said  something  in  a  whisper  to  the  foot- 
man who  opened  the  carriage  door.  When  the  doctor 
had  seated  himself  beside  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  the  servant 
closed  the  door,  and  almost  immediately  after  called  out 
to  the  coachman  in  a  loud  tone,  "  To  the  minister's 
hdtel,  private  entrance  !  " 

The  horses  dashed  off  at  full  speed. 


190 


;'  HE  AND  ADRIENNE  WERE  ALONE.' 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A  FALSE  FRIEND. 

The  night  had  set  in  dark  and  cold. 

The  sky,  which  had  been  clear  until  sunset,  was  now 
covered  with  dark  gray  clouds;  the  wind,  blowing 
harshly,  raised  in  places  the  thick  snow,  which  had 
begun  to  fall. 

e  The  lamps  only  threw  a  doubtful  light  into  the  car- 
riage of  Doctor  Baleinier,  where  he  and  Adrienne  were 
alone. 

Adrienne's  lovely  face,  beneath  her  small  bonnet  of 
gray  beaver,  faintly  lighted  up  by  the  beams  of  the 
lamps,  looked  white  and  fair,  from  contrast  with  the 
dark  hue  of  the  material  with  which  the  carriage  was 
lined,  and  which  was  odorous  of  that  sweet,  delicious 
perfume,  almost  enervating,  which  always  proceeds  from 
the  garments  of  females  who  pay  much  attention  to  their 
toilet.  The  position  of  the  young  girl,  as  she  sat  by  the 
doctor,  was  full  of  grace.  Her  elegant  and  pliant  figure, 
confined  in  her  high  dress  of  blue  cloth,  impressed  its 
supple  motion  on  the  soft  cushion  against  which  she 
leaned ;  her  small  feet,  crossed  one  over  the  other  and 
stretched  forward,  rested  on  a  thick  bearskin,  which 
served  for  a  carpet ;  in  her  fair  left  hand  she  held  a 
handkerchief,  magnificently  embroidered,  with  which,  to 
the  extreme  astonishment  of  M.  Baleinier,  she  wiped  her 
eyes,  which  were  suffused  with  tears. 

Yes ;  for  this  young  girl  then  suffered  under  the  re- 
action of  the  painful  scenes  at  which  she  had  been  present 

191 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


at  the  Hotel  de  Saint-Dizier.  To  a  feverish  and  nervous 
excitement  had  succeeded  an  extreme  depression  ;  for 
Adrienne,  so  bold  in  her  independence,  so  haughty  in 
her  disdain,  so  implacable  in  her  irony,  so  resolute  in  her 
resistance  to  unjust  oppression,  was 'endowed  with  the 
deepest  sensibility,  which  she  always  repressed  in  the 
presence  of  her  aunt  and  those  of  her  circle. 

In  spite  of  her  self-possession,  nothing  could  be  less 
masculine,  less  shrewish,  than  Mile,  de  Cardoville.  She 
was  essentially  the  woman ;  but  then,  as  a  woman,  she 
knew  entirely  how  to  exercise  self-command,  so  that  not 
the  slightest  symptom  of  weakness  on  her  part  appeared 
to  rejoice  and  inspirit  her  enemies. 

The  carriage  had  proceeded  for  some  minutes,  and 
Adrienne,  silently  drying  her  tears,  to  the  doctor's  great 
astonishment,  had  not  uttered  a  word. 

"  What,  my  dear  Mile.  Adrienne  !  "  said  M.  Baleinier, 
really  surprised  at  the  young  girl's  emotion.  "  What ! 
you  who  were  just  now  so  bold  —  you  weeping  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Adrienne,  in  an  altered  voice ;  "lam 
weeping  before  you,  —  a  friend;  but  before  my  aunt  — 
oh,  never  !  " 

"  Yet,  really,  in  our  long  interview,  your  sarcasms  —  " 
"  Oh !  can  you  not  suppose  that  I  give  myself  up  to 
saying  these  bitter  things  in  spite  of  myself  ?  Nothing 
disgusts  me  more  than  these  sort  of  struggles  with  bitter 
irony,  to  which  I  am  driven  by  the  necessity  of  defending 
myself  against  this  woman  and  her  friends.  You  talk 
of  my  courage,  but  I  assure  you  that  it  does  not  consist 
in  an  ill-natured  wit,  but  in  repressing,  concealing  all  I 
endure,  when  I  find  myself  so  coarsely  treated  before 
persons  whom  I  hate  and  despise.  I  who,  after  all, 
have  never  done  them  any  harm,  and  only  ask  to  be 
allowed  to  live  alone,  free,  quiet,  and  see  all  around  me 
happy ! " 

"  Yes,  so  it  is ;  they  are  envious  of  your  happiness, 
and  that  of  those  who  owe  theirs  to  you." 

192 


A  FALSE  FRIEND. 


"  And  this  is  my  aunt !  "  exclaimed  Adrienne,  indig- 
nantly. "  My  aunt,  whose  own  life  has  been  one 
lengthened  scandal,  who  accuses  me  in  so  revolting  a 
manner  !  As  if  she  did  not  know  that  I  am  proud  enough, 
loyal  enough,  to  make  only  such  a  choice  which  would 
do  honour  to  me  openly.  Oh,  whenever  I  fall  in  love, 
I  shall  proclaim  it,  and  triumph  in  it ;  for  love,  as  I 
understand  it,  is  the  most  glorious  thing  in  the  world." 
Then  Adrienne  added,  with  extreme  bitterness,  "  What 
avail,  then,  are  honour  and  frankness,  if  they  do  not 
place  you  beyond  suspicions  which  are  even  more  stupid 
than  hateful?" 

And  again  Mile,  de  Cardoville  raised  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes. 

"  Come,  my  dear  Mile.  Adrienne,"  said  M.  Baleinier, 
with  a  soothing  and  insinuating  voice,  "  calm  yourself ; 
this  is  all  over  now.    You  have  in  me  a  devoted  friend." 

And  as  this  man  spoke  he  blushed,  in  spite  of  his 
devilish  cunning. 

"  I  know  full  well  you  are  my  friend,"  said  Adrienne  ; 
"  and  I  shall  never  forget  that  you  exposed  yourself 
to-day  to  the  resentments  of  my  aunt  in  taking  my  part ; 
for  I  am  not  ignorant  of  her  power,  —  a  power  great  for 
evil  —  " 

"  As  to  that,"*  said  the  doctor,  affecting  perfect  indif- 
ference, "  we  medical  men  are  beyond  the  reach  of  any 
revenges." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  M.  Baleinier,  but  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier  and  her  friends  never  forgive  !  "  And  the  young 
girl  shuddered.  "  It  has  required  my  unconquerable 
aversion,  my  innate  horror  of  all  that  is  cowardly,  base, 
and  unprincipled,  to  enable  me  to  break  so  openly  with 
her ;  but,  if  it  were  a  question  of  death  itself,  I  should 
not  hesitate.  And  yet,"  she  added,  with  one  of  those 
captivating  smiles  which  gave  so  much  grace  to  her 
lovely  countenance,  "  I  like  life  very  much,  too,  and  if 
1  have  to  reproach  myself,  it  is  that  I  like  it  too  brilliant, 

193 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


too  attractive,  too  harmonious;  but,  as  you  know  I 
make  up  my  mind  to  its  defects." 

"Come,  come,  I  am  easier  now,"  said  the  doctor 
gaily  ;  "  you  smile,  and  that  is  a  good  sign." 

"  And  often  the  wisest.  Yet  ought  I  to  smile,  after 
the  threats  of  my  aunt  ?  Yet  what  can  she  do  ?  What 
was  the  meaning  of  this  kind  of  family  conference  ? 
Seriously,  could  she  think  for  a  moment  that  I  was  to  be 
influenced  by  the  opinions  of  a  M.  d'Aigri^ny  or  a  M 
Tripeaud?  Then  she  spoke  of  rigorous  measures.' 
What  measures  could  she  take  ?    Do  you  know  ? " 

"  I  think,  between  ourselves,  that  the  princess  only 
meant  to  frighten  you.  She  relies  on  being  able  to  in- 
fluence you  by  persuasion  ;  she,  unfortunately,  persuades 
herself  that  she  is  a  mother  of  the  church,  and  dreams 
of  your  conversion,"  said  the  doctor,  significantly,  and 
desirous  of  giving  Adrienne  full  confidence  in  him. 
"  But  do  not  let  us  talk  of  this,  — your  eyes  must  shine 
with  their  accustomed  lustre,  to  seduce  and  fascinate  the 
minister  we  are  going  to  see." 

"You  are  right,  my  dear  doctor;  we  should  always 
drive  away  one's  own  vexation,  for  one  of  its  least  dis~ 
agreeables  is  to  make  you  forget  the  vexations  of  others  ; 
but  let  me  remember  that  I  am  making  use  of  your 
kindness  without  saying  what  I  wanted  from  you." 

"  We  have  plenty  of  time,  fortunately,  to  converse,  for 
our  man  of  state  lives  a  long  distance  from  you." 

"  In  two  words,  then,  this  is  it,"  replied  Adrienne :  "  I 
have  told  you  the  reasons  I  had  for  interesting  myself  in 
this  worthy  artisan,  who  came  this  morning  in  great  dis- 
tress to  tell  me  that  he  had  compromised  himself  by 
some  songs  he  had  written  (for  he  is  a  poet),  and  was 
threatened  with  arrest;  that  he  was  innocent,  and,  if 
they  put  him  in  prison,  that  his  family,  of  whom  he  was 
the  sole  support,  would  starve.  He  came,  therefore,  to 
me,  asking  me  to  become  his  security,  so  that  he  might 
be  left  free  to  work,  and  I  promised  him,  thinking  of 

194 


A  FALSE  FRIEND. 


your  intimacy  with  the  minister ;  but  they  were  already 
on  the  tracks  of  the  poor  fellow,  and  I  bethought  me  of 
hiding  him  in  my  house,  and  you  know  the  interpreta- 
tion which  has  been  put  upon  that  by  my  aunt.  Now 
tell  me,  thanks  to  your  introduction,  do  you  believe  that 
the  minister  will  grant  what  we  are  going  to  ask,  —  the 
liberty  of  this  workman  on  the  security  given  ?  " 

"  Unquestionably,  there  will  not  be  a  shadow  of  diffi- 
culty, particularly  when  you  tell  him  all  the  facts  with 
that  eloquence  of  the  heart  which  you  possess  so  com- 
pletely." 

"  Do  you  know,  dear  Doctor  Baleinier,  why  I  have 
taken  the  resolution  —  a  strange  one,  perhaps  —  to  re- 
quest you  to  take  me,  young  girl  as  I  am,  to  the 
minister's  ? " 

a  Why,  I  imagine,  in  order  to  recommend  your  protege* 
in  as  urgent  a  manner  as  possible." 

"  Yes ;  and  also  to  cut  short,  by  a  bold  step,  the  cal- 
umnies which  my  aunt  will  not  be  slow  to  disseminate, 
and  which  she  has  already,  as  you  saw,  caused  to  be 
inserted  in  the  depositions  of  the  commissary  of  police. 
I  have,  therefore,  preferred  to  address  myself  freely  and 
openly  to  a  man  placed  in  an  eminent  position.  I  shall 
tell  him  what  is  really  the  case,  and  he  will  believe  me, 
because  the  truth  has  an  air  which  never  deceives." 

"  This  is  all,  my  dear  Mile.  Adrienne,  wisely  and 
cleverly  reasoned.  You  will,  as  they  say,  kill  two  birds 
with  one  stone ;  or,  rather,  from  one  good  action  you 
will  derive  two  acts  of  justice.  You  will  destroy  at  once 
dangerous  scandals,  and  set  at  liberty  a  worthy  fellow." 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Adrienne,  with  a  smile,  "  all  my 
gaiety  has  returned,  thanks  to  this  happy  prospect." 

"Oh,"  replied  the  doctor,  philosophically,  "in  this 
life  all  depends  on  the  point  of  sight  from  which  we 
contemplate  it." 

Adrienne  was  so  completely  ignorant  of  matters  of 
constitutional  government  and  administrative  arrange- 

195 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


ments,  and  had  so  blind  a  confidence  in  the  doctor,  that 
she  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt  what  he  told  her.  She, 
therefore,  said  joyfully : 

"  How  delightful !  So  I  shall  be  able,  when  I  go  to 
see  the  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon,  to  assure  the 
artisan's  poor  mother,  who  is,  perhaps,  at  this  moment 
in  cruel  agony  on  his  account,  as  he  does  not  return  to 
her." 

"  Yes,  you  will  have  that  pleasure,"  said  M.  Baleinier, 
smiling ;  "for  we  will  beg  and  bother  him  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  good  mother  shall  learn  through  you 
that  her  excellent  son  is  at  liberty  before  she  knows  he 
has  been  in  custody." 

"How  kind,  how  good  you  are!"  said  Adrienne. 
"  Really,  if  it  were  not  that  the  matter  was  so  serious, 
my  dear  M.  Baleinier,  I  should  be  ashamed  to  make  you 
lose  so  much  precious  time ;  but  I  know  your  heart." 

"I  have  but  one  desire,  and  that  is  to  prove  to  you 
my  profound  devotion,  my  sincere  attachment,"  said  the 
doctor,  in  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

At  the  same  moment  he  gave  an  unquiet  glance  at  the 
coach  window,  for  the  carriage  was  crossing  the  Place 
de  l'Odeon,  and,  in  spite  of  the  heavy  fall  of  snow,  the 
facade  of  the  theatre  was  illuminated,  and  he  feared 
lest  Adrienne,  who  at  this  moment  turned  her  head  in 
the  same  direction,  might  be  astonished  at  the  singular 
route  they  had  taken. 

In  order  to  draw  off  her  attention  by  a  skilful  di- 
version, the  doctor  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  Alas !  I  have 
forgotten —  " 

"  What  is  it,  M.  Baleinier  ? "  said  Adrienne,  turning 
quickly  towards  him. 

"  I  forgot  one  very  important  thing  towards  the  suc- 
cess of  our  petition." 

"  What  is  that  ? "  asked  the  young  lady,  who  was 
uneasy  at  the  remark. 

M.  Baleinier  smiled  significantly.    "  All  men,"  said 

196 


A  FALSE  FRIEND. 


he,  "  have  their  weaknesses,  and  a  minister  more  than 
any  other.  He  whom  we  are  going  to  solicit  has  the 
absurdity  to  pique  himself  ridiculously  on  his  title,  and 
his  first  impression  would  be  far  from  favourable,  if 
you  did  not  salute  him  very  emphatically  as  6  Monsieur 
le  Ministre.' " 

«  If  that  be  all,  my  dear  M.  Baleinier,"  said  Adrienne, 
smiling  in  turn,  "  I  will  go  as  far  as  '  Your  Excellency ' 
himself,  which  is,  I  believe,  one  of  his  adopted  titles." 

"  No,  not  now,  for  certain  reasons ;  but  if  you  could 
let  fall  one  or  two  <  Monseigneurs,'  our  affair  would  be 
effected  out  of  hand." 

«  Make  yourself  easy ;  since  there  are  bourgeois-mi- 
nistres  as  well  as  bourgeois-gentilsJiomme,  I  must  remember 
M.  Jourdain,  and  will  fully  satisfy  the  gluttonous  vanity 
of  your  man  of  state." 

"  I  give  him  up  to  you,  and  he  will  be  in  good  hands," 
replied  the  physician,  seeing  with  satisfaction  that  the 
carriage  had  reached  the  dark  streets  which  lead  from 
the  Place  de  l'Odeon  to  the  quarter  of  the  Pantheon ; 
"  but,  under  the  circumstance,  I  have  not  the  courage  to 
reproach  my  friend  the  minister  with  being  vain,  since 
his  vanity  comes  to  my  assistance." 

"  Besides,  the  little  ruse  is  innocent,"  added  Mile,  de 
Cardoville,  "  and  I  have  no  scruple  in  having  recourse  to 
it,  I  assure  you."  Then,  looking  towards  the  window, 
she  said,  "  Oh,  how  dull  and  dark  these  streets  are  ! 
What  a  wind,  and  what  snow  1  In  which  quarter  are 
we  now  ? " 

"  What !  Ungrateful  and  unnatural  inhabitant,  do  you 
not  recognise  by  the  absence  of  shops  your  dear  quarter, 
the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  ?  " 

"  I  thought  we  had  left  it  long  since." 

"  And  so  did  I "  said  the  doctor,  looking  out  of  the 
window  as  if  to  reconnoitre  the  place  in  which  he  was ; 
"but  we  are  still  here.  My  stupid  coachman,  blinded 
by  the  snow  which  dashes  in  his  face,  must  have  mis- 

197 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


taken  his  road,  but  now  we  are  all  right.  Yes  ■  I  see 
we  are  in  the  Rue  St.  Guillaume,  —  not  a  very  gay 
street,  by  the  way,  but  in  ten  minutes  we  shall  reach  the 
private  entrance  of  the  minister's,  for  intimates  like  me 
have  the  privilege  of  escaping  the  honours  of  the  state 
entrance." 

Mile,  de  Cardoville,  like  persons  who  usually  go  out 
in  carriages,  knew  so  little  of  the  streets  of  Paris,  and  of 
ministerial  habits,  that  she  doubted  not  for  an  instant 
what  Doctor  Baleinier  affirmed,  having  also  in  him  such 
implicit  confidence. 

From  the  moment  of  quitting  the  Hotel  de  Saint- 
Dizier,  the  doctor  had  on  his  lips  a  question  he  still 
feared  to  ask,  lest  by  so  doing  he  should  excite  the  sus- 
picions of  Adrienne. 

When  Mile,  de  Cardoville  had,  during  her  stormy 
interview  with  her  aunt,  vaguely  hinted  at  the  immense 
wealth  which  must  ere  long  devolve  to  her,  and  of  such  a 
circumstance  having  been  hitherto  concealed  from  her,  the 
doctor  was  too  keen  and  acute  an  observer  of  the  workings 
of  the  human  countenance,  not  to  perceive  the  intense 
agony  and  embarrassment  such  an  announcement  occa- 
sioned both  to  the  princess  and  M.  d'Aigrigny.  He  doubted 
not  that  the  conspiracy  against  Adrienne,  in  which  he 
had  taken  part  from  blind  obedience  to  the  will  of  his 
Order,  bore  reference  to  this  expected  but  concealed 
increase  of  property,  and  for  that  very  reason  he  burned 
with  impatience  to  learn  every  particular  respecting  it ; 
for  being  compelled,  in  common  with  each  member  of 
this  dark  confederacy,  to  be  constantly  exercising  an 
inquisitorial  survey  into  everybody's  affairs,  he  felt  as  a 
natural  consequence  the  rapid  growth  within  him  of  the 
odious  vices  peculiar  to  being  an  accomplice,  such  as 
envy,  mistrust,  and  jealous  curiosity. 

It  will,  therefore,  be  easily  understood  that  Doctor 
Baleinier,  while  perfectly  resolved  to  aid  M.  d'Aigrigny 
in  all  his  projects,  was  yet  most  eager  to  learn  what  it 

198 


A  FALSE  FRIEND. 


was  he  had  been  kept  ignorant  of  in  the  affair ;  there- 
fore, surmounting  his  hesitation,  and  finding  the  present 
opportunity  not  only  favourable  but  urgent,  he  at  length 
ventured  to  observe  to  Adrienne : 

"I  am  about  to  put  to  you  a  somewhat  impertinent 
question,  but  should  you  view  it  in  that  light  do  not 
answer  it." 

"  Proceed,  I  beg  of  you !  " 

"  Some  time  ago,  a  few  minutes  before  the  commissary 
of  police  was  announced  to  your  aunt,  I  fancied  you 
spoke  of  some  vast  expectancies  which  had  been  kept 
from  your  knowledge  up  to  the  present  moment." 

"  I  did  so  express  myself." 

"Those  words"  continued  M.  Baleinier,  proceeding 
slowly  and  emphatically,  "appeared  to  me  to  make  a 
lively  impression  on  the  princess  ! " 

"  In  fact,"  said  Adrienne,  "  the  impression  was  so 
lively  as  to  change  mere  suspicions  into  certainties." 

"I  need  not  tell  you,  my  charming  young  friend," 
pursued  M.  de  Baleinier,  in  a  tone  of  paternal  kindness, 
"  that,  if  I  revert  to  this  circumstance,  it  is  but  to  offer 
my  services  should  they  be  useful  to  you  in  any  emer- 
gency. Otherwise,  if  you  see  the  shadow  of  an  objection, 
in  giving  me  any  further  information,  just  forget  that 
the  subject  has  been  named  between  us." 

Adrienne  became  pensive  and  serious.  After  a  silence 
of  some  moments,  she  said  to  M.  Baleinier  : 

"  There  are  some  parts  of  this  affair  of  which  I  am 
myself  ignorant,  others  that  I  am  at  liberty  to  tell  you. 
Still,  though  in  return  for  your  kindness  of  to-day  I  am 
but  too  glad  to  afford  you  another  proof  of  the  entire 
confidence  I  place  in  you,  you  must  excuse  my  conceal- 
ing several  particulars,  —  because  those  I  dare  not 
divulge." 

"  Then,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  the  doctor,  with 
an  air  of  mortified  regret,  "  you  shall  tell  me  nothing, 
since  it  would  have  the  appearance  of  a  recompense  for 

199 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


the  trifling  service  I  have  rendered ;  when,  in  reality,  I 
am  paid  a  thousand  times  over  by  the  pleasure  I  expe- 
rience in  serving  you." 

"  Listen  ! "  said  Adrienne,  without  appearing  to  notice 
the  delicate  scruples  of  M.  Baleinier.  "  I  have  powerful 
reasons  for  believing  that  an  immense  inheritance  must, 
either  sooner  or  later,  be  divided  between  the  various 
branches  of  my  family,  unknown  to  me  at  present ;  for, 
after  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  the  persons 
from  whom  they  are  descended  were  dispersed  through 
various  kingdoms,  where  they  experienced  very  different 
fortunes.' ' 

"  Really  ! "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  with  the  most  in- 
tense interest.  "  Where  is  this  inheritance  ?  Whom 
does  it  come  from  ?    In  whose  hands  is  it  at  present  ? " 

"  I  know  not !  " 

"  How,  then,  will  you  establish  your  claim  ?  " 
"  I  shall  be  informed  hereafter." 
"  And  who  will  inform  you  ?  " 
"  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"From  whom  did  you  learn  the  existence  of  this 
inheritance  ? " 

"  Neither  can  I  tell  you  that,"  replied  Adrienne,  in  a 
tone  of  gentle  sadness,  which  contrasted  greatly  with  the 
habitual  energy  of  her  manner.  "  It  is  a  secret !  A 
great,  a  strange  secret !  And  when,  in  those  moments 
of  excitement  in  which  you  have  sometimes  surprised 
me,  I  have  thought  of  the  extraordinary  circumstances 
connected  with  this  mystery,  oh,  then  great  and  mag- 
nificent ideas  have  awakened  within  me,  and  my  thoughts 
have  been  too  mighty  to  tell." 

And  as  the  last  words  fell  from  her  lips,  Adrienne 
sunk  into  a  reverie  so  profound  that  M.  Baleinier  made 
no  further  effort  to  withdraw  her  from  it ;  for  one  rea- 
son, it  prevented  Mile,  de  Cardoville  from  remarking 
the  direction  they  were  taking ;  then,  he  himself  ^  was 
not  sorry  for  the  leisure  to  arrange  the  different  ideas 

200 


A  FALSE  FRIEND. 


awakened  by  this  revelation,  incomplete  as  it  had  been. 
With  his  habitual  perspicacity,  he  had  all  along  suspected 
that  some  expected  wealth  was  the  secret  hinge  of 
D'Aigrigny's  movements;  he,  therefore,  determined  to 
make  the  affair  the  subject  of  a  private  memorial.  Of 
two  things,  one  was  certain :  Either  D'Aigrigny  acted 
as  he  was  now  doing  by  the  directions  of  his  Order,  or 
from  his  own  personal  reasons.  In  the  first  case,  the 
doctor's  secret  intimation  would  but  confirm  an  already 
known  fact ;  on  the  other  hand,  it  would  bring  a  most 
important  one  to  light. 

For  some  time,  both  Mile,  de  Cardoville  and  M. 
Baleinier  maintained  a  profound  silence,  unbroken 
even  by  the  noise  of  the  wheels  as  they  rolled  over  the 
thick  snow  which  covered  the  ground,  for  the  streets  were 
becoming  more  and  more  deserted. 

Spite  of  his  habitual  subtility,  his  confident  boldness, 
and  the  blindness  of  his  dupe,  the  doctor  did  not  feel 
quite  at  his  ease  as  to  the  result  of  his  scheme  as  the 
critical  moment  approached,  for  well  he  knew  that,  were 
the  slightest  suspicion  awakened  in  the  mind  of  Adri- 
enne,  utter  ruin  to  his  projects  must  inevitably  follow. 

Adrienne,  fatigued  with  the  events  of  this  painful  day, 
shivered  with  exhaustion  and  the  biting  frost,  which  be- 
came momentarily  more  intense,  and  in  her  haste  to 
accompany  M.  Baleinier  she  had  forgotten  to  take  either 
a  shawl  or  a  cloak. 

For  some  time  past  the  carriage  had  kept  close  to  a 
very  high  and  strongly  built  wall,  which,  covered  with 
snow,  stood  out  in  bold  relief  from  the  thick  darkness 
of  the  heavens.  A  deep  and  gloomy  silence  pervaded  the 
spot. 

The  carriage  drew  up. 

The  footman  got  down  and  went  to  the  entrance  gates, 
where  he  gave  two  quick  knocks  of  a  peculiar  kind  ;  then, 
after  waiting  some  length  of  time,  he  gave  a  third. 

Adrienne  had  taken  no  notice  of  this  circumstance,  for 

201 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  knocking  had  not  been  loud,  and,  besides,  the  doctor 
had  also  skilfully  called  off  her  attention  by  speaking  at 
the  very  instant,  so  as  to  effectually  prevent  this  species 
of  signal  from  reaching  her  ear. 

"  Well>  here  we  are  !  "  said  he,  gaily,  to  Adrienne  ; "  now 
mind  you  must  be  very  captivating  —  that  is  to  say,  you 
must  be  yourself  !  " 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  depend  upon  it,"  rejoined  Adri- 
enne, smiling.  Then,  spite  of  herself,  shuddering  with 
the  cold,  she  said,  "  What  a  bitter  night !  I  really  must 
own,  my  good  doctor,  that,  after  I  have  been  to  fetch  my 
poor  little  relations  from  the  house  of  the  mother  of  our 
honest  proteg<3,  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  find  myself  this 
evening  in  my  nicely  warmed  and  well-lighted  drawing- 
room,  for  you  know  my  aversion  to  cold  or  darkness." 

"  That  is  quite  natural,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  gallant 
tone  ;  "  the  loveliest  flowers  can  only  bloom  in  light  and 
heat."  5 

While  these  words  passed  between  the  doctor  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  the  heavy  gates  swung  back 
with  a  grating  sound,  and  the  carriage  entered  the  court- 
yard. 

The  doctor  descended  first  and  offered  his  arm  to 
Adrienne. 


202 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE. 

The  carriage  had  drawn  up  before  a  small  flight  of 
steps  covered  with  snow,  and  conducting  to  a  vestibule 
lighted  by  a  single  lamp.  As  Adrienne  leaned  on  the 
arm  of  the  doctor  while  ascending  the  slippery  stairs,  he 
exclaimed  : 

"  Good  heavens,  how  you  tremble  !  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  she,  shivering  violently ;  "  I  never 
felt  the  cold  so  severely.  In  my  haste  I  forgot  even  to 
throw  on  a  shawl." 

Then,  as  they  reached  the  top  of  the  ascent,  she 
added : 

"  What  a  gloomy-looking  place  !  " 

"  It  is  what  the  minister  styles  his  private  dwelling,  — 
the  sanctum  sanctorum,  where  the  great  man  retires  from 
vulgar  gaze,"  replied  M.  de  Baleinier,  smiling.  "  But 
pray  walk  in." 

So  saying,  he  pushed  open  the  door  of  a  large  and 
completely  deserted  hall. 

"  Well,"  said  M.  Baleinier,  striving  to  conceal  the  un- 
easiness he  felt  under  the  mask  of  gaiety,  "  I  can't  say 
much  for  the  splendour  of  our  friend's  private  residence! 
Not  a  footman  !  Not  an  official  servant  to  receive  visitors! 
However,  fortunately,"  continued  he,  opening  the  door  of 
a  room  communicating  with  the  vestibule,  "  bred  up  in 
the  seraglio,  I  know  its  every  turn." 

As  the  doctor  uttered  these  words,  he  ushered  Mile, 
de  Cardoville  into  a  salon  hung  with  green  paper, 

203 


THE  WAXDERIXG  JEW. 

patterned  over  with  velvet  flowers,  and  splendidly  fur- 
nished with  mahogany  chairs,  armchairs,  etc.,  covered 
with  yellow  stamped  velvet.  The  flooring  was  most  care- 
fully polished ;  and  a  circular  lamp,  which  scarcelv 
afforded  more  than  half  the  light  it  was  intended  to 
convey,  hung  from  the  ceiling  at  a  much  greater  height 
than  it  is  usual  to  place  lamps. 

Astonished  at  finding  a  minister's  abode  so  verv 
modestly  furnished,  Adrienne,  although  she  entertained 
no  suspicion,  could  not  restrain  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
and  paused  an  instant  on  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

M.  Baleinier.  whose  arm  she  held,  guessing  the  cause 
of  her  hesitation,  said  to  her,  smilingly : 

"This  house  strikes  you  as  somewhat  mean  for  the 
residence  of  a  great  man  —  an  excellency  —  does  it  not  ? 
But  if  you  only  knew  what  a  thing  constitutional  econ- 
omy is.  In  fact,  when  you  see  the  master,  you  will 
find  very  little  difference  between  the  plainness  of  his 
appearance  and  that  of  his  hotel.  But  have  the  goodness 
to  wait  for  me  a  little  while  ;  I  will  go  and  open  our 
business  to  the  minister,  and  prepare  him  to  receive  you. 
I  will  be  back  directly.'' 

And  gently  disengaging  his  arm  from  that  of  Adri- 
enne. who  involuntarily  clung  to  him,  the  doctor  opened 
a  little  side  door  and  disappeared. 

Adrienne  de  Cardoville  was  now  left  quite  alone. 

Although  unable  to  account  for  it.  a  strange  and  un- 
definable  dread  stole  over  the  mind  of  the  poor  girl  as 
she  surveyed  the  cold,  scantily  furnished  apartment,  with 
its  uncurtained  windows :  and  as  she  more  closely 
observed  the  peculiarities  in  the  mode  of  furnishing  it.  a 
vague  sense  of  impending  danger  quickened  the  beating 
of  her  heart,  as  she  more  attentively  scrutinised  the  dull 
chamber  in  which  the  doctor  had  placed  her. 

Having  instinctively  approached  the  now  extinguished 
fire,  she  perceived  with  astonishment  that  a  close  iron- 
work condemned  all  who  sought  its  proximity  to  keep  at 

204 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE. 


a  considerable  distance  from  the  power  of  touching  it ; 
while  the  opening  towards  the  chimney  was  similarly 
secured,  and  the  fire-irons  chained  to  the  wall  by  pow- 
erful rivets  of  iron.  While  wondering  at  so  strange  a 
fancy,  she  mechanically  seated  herself  in  an  armchair, 
which  she  endeavoured  to  draw  to  a  more  agreeable  situ- 
ation than  the  one  it  occupied  against  the  wall,  —  but  in 
vain. 

Equally  struck  with  this  additional  caprice  (as  she 
conceived  it  to  be)  on  the  part  of  the  owner,  she  exam- 
ined the  various  articles  of  furniture  throughout  the 
room,  and  found  that  each  of  them,  as  well  as  the  arm- 
chair which  had  so  effectually  resisted  her  desire  to 
move  it,  was  firmly  fastened  to  the  wainscot  by  an  iron 
band.  Unable  to  repress  a  smile,  Adrienne  could  not 
help  thinking  that  the  great  man  she  had  come  to  visit 
must  have  a  poor  opinion  of  those  who  sought  his  pres- 
ence, since  he  found  it  necessary  to  chain  his  furniture 
so  securely ;  but  this  endeavour  to  derive  amusement  in 
the  midst  of  a  place  so  calculated  to  excite  opposite  feel- 
ings was  a  forced  effort  on  the  part  of  Adrienne,  who 
each  instant  felt  an  increase  of  awe  and  vague  apprehen- 
sion ;  for  a  stillness  like  that  of  a  house  into  which  death 
has  entered  prevailed,  and  no  sound  or  busy  feet  pro- 
claimed the  bustle  and  stir  usually  to  be  met  with  in 
ministerial  abodes.  The  perfect  silence  continued  un- 
broken, save  by  the  violent  gusts  of  wind  which  rattled 
and  shook  the  windows  throughout  the  house. 

More  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  passed  away ;  still 
M.  Baleinier  did  not  return.  Uneasy,  as  well  as  impa- 
tient, Adrienne  determined  to  summon  some  one  who 
should  signify  to  M.  Baleinier  or  the  minister  her  anxiety 
to  complete  the  affair  which  had  brought  her  there.  As 
she  rose  to  search  for  the  bell-rope  beside  the  looking- 
glass,  she  discovered,  if  not  the  bell  she  sought,  that 
what  she  had  (thanks  to  the  imperfect  light  of  the 
place)  mistaken  for  glass  was,  in  reality,  nothing  but 

205 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

a  very  highly  polished  sheet  of  tin.    Approaching  the 
strange  contrivance  somewhat  hastily,  she  feared  she 
had  knocked  over  a  bronze  candlestick;  but  her  ap 
prehensions  were  needless,  —  the  article  in  question 
with  the  timepiece,  was  securely  riveted  to  the  marble 
mantelpiece. 

Under  a  peculiar  state  of  the  mind  we  are  frequently 
apt  to  attach  an  immense  importance  to  matters  we 
should  at  other  times  pass  over  as  too  insignificant  to 
notice.  But,  at  the  present  moment,  these  immovable 
candlesticks,  the  furniture  so  firmly  secured  to  the  wall 
the  glass  replaced  by  a  sheet  of  metal,  the  dullness  of 
the  place,  with  its  death-like  stillness,  and  the  protracted 
absence  of  M.  Baleinier,  —  all  combined  to  affect  Adri- 
enne's  imagination,  until  she  became  seriously  alarmed. 

Such,  however,  was  her  habitual  confidence  in  the 
doctor,  that  she  energetically  struggled  with  her  terrors 
even  blaming  the  allowing  herself  to  be  disturbed  by 
trifles  which,  after  all,  might  mean  nothing,  and  were 
really  not  of  sufficient  importance  to  occupy  her  thoughts 
so  long  as  they  had  done.  As  for  M.  Baleinier,  he  was, 
no  doubt,  waiting  till  the  many  occupations  of  the  minis- 
ter permitted  his  obtaining  the  audience  he  sought. 

But,  spite  of  every  effort,  the  poor  girl,  chilled  with 
the  cold,  and  wearied  out  by  the  anxiety  of  her  mind, 
could  not  shut  out  the  whisperings  of  fear,  which,  at 
length,  gained  such  complete  dominion  over  her  as  to 
induce  her  to  do  what  no  other  circumstances  could  have 
effected.  She  gently  approached  the  little  door  by  which 
the  doctor  had  disappeared,  and  listened  attentively.  Her 
heart  beat,  and  she  held  her  breath,  — all  her  senses 
seemed  concentrated  in  one ;  but  no  sound  reached  her. 
All  at  once  a  dull,  heavy  noise,  as  if  something  weighty 
had  fallen  just  overhead,  struck  on  her  startled  ear,  — 
she  even  fancied  she  could  discern  stifled  groans. 

Quickly  glancing  towards  that  part  of  the  ceiling 
whence  the  sound  had  proceeded,  she  saw  several  pieces 

206 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE. 


of  the  plaster,  which  had  been  detached  by  the  concussion 
overhead,  fall  to  the  ground. 

Wholly  unable  any  longer  to  repress  her  fear,  Adri- 
enne  flew  to  the  door  by  which  she  had  entered  with  the 
doctor  to  call  for  assistance.  But,  to  her  extreme  sur- 
prise, she  found  it  fastened  on  the  outside.  This  was, 
indeed,  beyond  the  power  of  any  reasoning  to  understand. 
Still,  she  could  not  recollect  having  heard  the  slightest 
sound  of  turning  the  key  in  the  lock,  which  was  also  on 
the  outer  side  of  the  door. 

Becoming  seriously  alarmed,  the  frightened  girl  flew 
back  to  the  door  at  which  she  had  been  listening,  and 
by  which  the  doctor  had  disappeared. 

Alas  !  It  was,  like  the  other,  too  securely  fastened 
from  without  to  admit  of  her  opening  it. 

Still  striving  to  keep  down  the  terror  which  momenta- 
rily gained  more  complete  dominion  over  her  senses, 
Adrienne  called  to  her  aid  all  the  courage  and  firmness 
of  her  character,  and  sought  to  reason  herself  out  of 
weakly  yielding  to  the  circumstances,  however  alarming, 
by  which  she  was  now  surrounded. 

"  I  must  have  been  mistaken,"  said  she ;  "  something 
has  fallen  overhead,  and  my  imagination  has  supplied 
the  groans.,  There  are  a  thousand  reasons  in  favour  of 
its  being  some  thing,  and  not  some  person,  I  heard  fall. 
But  then  these  doors,  so  strongly  fastened !  Probably 
no  one  knows  of  my  being  in  the  house,  and  may  have 
closed  up  the  apartment  under  the  idea  of  no  person 
being  in  it." 

As  she  thought  thus,  Adrienne  cast  another  careful 
yet  anxious  survey  over  the  apartment ;  and  then  said, 
with  a  firm  and  resolved  manner : 

"This  is  weak  and  silly,  —  thus  to  try  and  deceive 
myself  as  to  my  present  position,  and  to  shut  my  eyes 
upon  the  difficulties,  perhaps  dangers,  which  surround 
me,  instead  of  boldly  and  courageously  looking  them  in 
the  face.    One  thing  is  certain  :  this  is  the  house  of  no 

207 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


minister,  —  a  thousand  reasons  now  prove  the  contrary 
to  me !  M.  Baleinier  has  therefore  deceived  me ;  but 
wherefore  can  he  have  done  so  ?  Why  has  he  brought 
me  here  ?    And  where  am  I  ?  " 

These  questions  were  more  easily  asked  than  answered. 
One  fact  alone  remained  incontrovertible,  —  that  she  was 
the  victim  of  M.  Baleinier' s  treachery. 

To  a  mind  so  noble,  so  generous  as  Adrienne's,  there 
was  something  so  abhorrent  in  this  certainty  that  she 
sought  to  repel  it  by  recalling  the  confiding  friendship 
with  which  she  had  -ever  treated  the  man  she  now 
suspected ;  and  feeling  within  herself  how  impossible  it 
was  for  any  one  to  repay  her  open  trustfulness  with  such 
black  perfidy,  she  bitterly  exclaimed : 

"  See  to  what  hateful  and  unjust  suspicions  we  may 
be  led  by  fear  and  weakness !  No,  no  ;  I  cannot,  I  will 
not,  credit  deceit  so  base,  so  heartless,  until  it  is  no 
longer  possible  to  doubt,  and  when  borne  out  by  the 
clearest  confirmation !  This  state  is  too  dreadful  to 
endure !  Let  me  summon  some  one  who  shall  at  once 
end  all  these  doubts ;  it  is  the  only  means  of  clearing 
them  up." 

Then,  remembering  there  was  no  bell,  she  said : 

"  Well,  never  mind,  I  will  knock.  I  dare  say  I  can 
make  myself  heard ;  and  then  a  servant  will  be  sure  to 
come  and  open  the  door." 

So  saying,  Adrienne  knocked  against  the  door  with 
her  delicate  knuckles  again  and  again.  By  the  dullness 
of  the  sound  produced,  it  was  easy  to  imagine  the 
extreme  thickness  of  the  door. 

Not  the  slightest  noise  announced  that  her  signal  of 
distress  had  been  heard. 

She  flew  to  the  other  door,  knocked  as  she  had 
previously  done,  and  with  the  same  effect,  the  profound 
silence  of  the  place  being  disturbed  only  by  the  loud 
gusts  of  wind  which  howled  around  the  building. 

"  I  am  not  more  timid    than  other  people,"  said 

208 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE. 


Adrienne,  shuddering.  "  I  know  not  whether  it  is  the 
deathly  chilliness  of  this  place,  but  I  tremble  involun- 
tarily ;  and  though  I  try  my  utmost  to  guard  against 
weakly  indulging  my  fears,  yet  I  cannot  help  fancying 
that  any  person  would  consider  what  is  passing  here  as 
strange  and  alarming  as  I  do." 

All  at  once  the  most  frightful  cries  and  savage  yells 
resounded  from  the  room  situated  over  the  one  in  which 
she  stood,  succeeded  by  a  hurried  and  violent  trampling 
of  feet,  as  though  several  persons  were  engaged  in  a 
desperate  struggle. 

In  the  first  shock  of  the  moment  Adrienne  screamed 
loudly ;  then,  becoming  pale  as  death,  stood  for  an 
instant  mute  and  motionless  with  terror;  but,  quickly 
recovering  herself,  she  rushed  to  one  of  the  windows 
and  threw  open  the  shutters. 

A  violent  gust  of  wind,  mixed  with  sleet  and  snow, 
rushed  into  the  apartment,  and,  after  filling  the  place 
with  the  smoke  and  vapour  from  the  flickering  lamp, 
finally  extinguished  it.  Thus,  plunged  in  utter  dark- 
ness, her  hands  tightly  grasping  the  iron  bars  with  which 
the  window  was  barricaded,  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  yielding 
to  her  long-restrained  alarm,  was  about  to  call  aloud  for 
help,  when  an  unexpected  sight  froze  the  blood  within 
her  veins,  and,  for  a  time,  rendered  her  speechless  with 
terror. 

Nearly  opposite  to  where  she  stood  was  a  similar 
wing  of  the  building,  and,  twinkling  amid  the  murkiness 
of  the  night,  she  saw  a  large  window,  from  which  pro- 
ceeded a  clear,  strong  light.  Through  this  curtainless 
window  Adrienne  saw  a  pale,  haggard,  emaciated-looking 
creature,  wrapped  in  a  sort  of  large  white  cloth  like  a 
sheet,  part  of  which  seemed  to  drag  on  the  ground. 
This  unhappy  being  kept  passing  rapidly  backwards  and 
forwards  before  the  window,  with  a  hasty  and  ceaseless 
motion. 

With  her  eyes  fixed  on  this  window,  which  shone 

209 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


brightly  amid  the  darkness  which  prevailed,  Adrienne 
stood  transfixed  with  horror  at  the  sight  of  this  fearful 
spectre.  Then,  as  her  agonised  fears  overpowered  her, 
she  shrieked  loudly  and  wildly  for  help,  without,  how- 
ever, quitting  her  hold  of  the  iron  bars  she  still  convul- 
sively grasped. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  minutes,  and  while  Adrienne  was 
repeating  her  cries  for  assistance,  two  huge  women  crept 
softly  into  the  room,  whilst  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  still 
clinging  to  the  window,  did  not  perceive  their  approach. 
These  persons  were  from  forty  to  fifty  years  of  age, 
strong,  powerful,  and  masculine  in  appearance,  shabbily 
and  slovenly  dressed,  after  the  style  and  fashion  of 
servants  of  the  very  lowest  class.  Over  their  dresses 
they  wore  large  aprons  of  coarse  blue  cloth,  reaching  up 
to  their  very  throat,  around  which  they  exactly  fitted, 
and  falling  even  to  their  feet. 

One  of  them,  who  held  a  lamp  in  her  hand,  had  a 
broad,  red,  shining  face,  with  a  large  pimpled  and 
inflamed  nose,  small  greenish  eyes,  and  a  quantity  of 
frizzled  hair,  the  colour  of  flax,  sticking  out  from  beneath 
her  dirty  cap. 

The  other  was  a  hard,  bony,  withered-looking  hag, 
whose  thin,  forbidding,  parchment-like  visage  was  en- 
shrouded beneath  a  black  cap.  She  was  deeply  marked 
with  the  smallpox,  displayed  a  pair  of  thick  black  eye- 
brows, which  nearly  met,  and  had  an  almost  correspond- 
ing fringe  upon  her  upper  lip.  This  woman  carried 
over  her  arm  a  vestment  of  thick,  strong  gray  cloth, 
which,  though  but  partially  unfolded,  exhibited  a  garment 
of  singular  make  as  well  as  texture. 

Both  these  persons  had  glided  stealthily  into  the  room 
by  the  little  door,  at  the  instant  when  Adrienne,  im- 
pelled by  her  uncontrollable  terror,  was  holding  by  the 
bars  and  calling  for  help.  Making  a  sign  to  each  other, 
these  women  pointed  to  the  poor  girl ;  and  while  one  of 
them  set  down  her  lamp  on  the  mantelpiece,  the  other 

210 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE. 


(the  one  in  the  black  cap),  approaching  the  casement, 
placed  her  great  bony  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Mile,  de 
Cardoville,  who,  turning  quickly  around,  screamed  with 
fresh  alarm  at  the  sight  of  so  forbidding  and  repulsive 
an  object. 

But  the  first  impulse  of  terror  over,  Adrienne  felt 
even  relieved  and  glad  at  the  presence  of  this  woman, 
who,  however  unpleasant  to  behold,  was,  at  least,  some 
one  to  whom  she  could  speak ;  and  she  eagerly  inquired, 
in  a  more  subdued  tone : 

«  Where  is  M.  Baleinier  ?  " 

The  women  looked  at  each  other,  exchanged  signs  of 
intelligence,  but  made  no  reply. 

"I  ask  you,"  repeated  Adrienne,  "where  is  M.  Ba- 
leinier, the  gentleman  who  brought  me  here  ?  I  wish  to 
see  him  directly  !  " 

"  He  is  gone,"  said  the  fat  woman. 

"  Gone  !  "  exclaimed  Adrienne.  "  Gone  without  me ! 
Gracious  heaven  !    What  can  this  mean  ? " 

Then,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  she  added : 

"  Fetch  me  a  coach  ! " 

The  women  looked  at  each  other,  shrugged  up  their 
shoulders,  but  said  nothing. 

"Will  you  have  the  goodness,"  said  Adrienne,  still 
restraining  herself,  "to  fetch  me  a  coach?  Since  M. 
Baleinier  has  gone  without  me,  I  must  return  home 
alone ;  but  I  wish  to  leave  this  place  instantly." 

"Come,  come,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  large  woman 
(who  was  called  Thomas),  pretending  not  to  understand 
what  Adrienne  said ;  "  come,  it  is  time  now  —  you  must 
go  to  bed !  " 

"  Go  to  bed ! "  shrieked  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  with  in- 
tense alarm.  "  For  God's  sake,  do  you  mean  to  drive 
me  mad  ? "  Then  addressing  the  other  woman,  she  said, 
"  What  house  is  this  ?  Where  am  I  ?  Tell  me,  I  command 
you,  instantly !  " 

"  Oh,  why,"  answered  Thomas,  in  a  rough  voice,  "  you 

211 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


are  in  a  house  where  you  must  not  stand  howling  out  of 
window,  as  you  did  just  now." 

"  And  where  folks  are  not  allowed  to  put  lamps  out, 
as  you  have  been  doing ;  because,  if  you  do,"  added  the 
woman  in  the  black  cap,  whose  name  was  Gervase,  "  why, 
I  shall  just  quarrel  about  it,  that's  all." 

Adrienne,  unable  to  utter  another  word,  yet  shudder- 
ing with  fear,  continued  to  gaze  on  these  horrible  females 
with  stupefied  earnestness;  in  vain  did  she  rack  her 
brain  to  devise  a  reason  for  all  she  saw  and  heard.  All 
at  once  she  imagined  she  had  discovered  the  true  cause 
of  all  her  present  sufferings,  and  in  a  joyful  tone  she 
exclaimed : 

"  I  see  !  I  see  !  There  is  some  mistake  here  ;  what  it 
is  I  do  not  know ;  but,  assuredly,  a  mistake  does  exist. 
You  take  me  for  some  one  else.  Do  you  know  who  I 
am?  I  am  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  —  do  you  hear? 
Adrienne  de  Cardoville !  So  you  see  I  am  at  liberty  to 
leave  this  house  whenever  I  please.  No  one  living  has 
the  right  to  detain  me ;  therefore,  I  desire  you  will  go 
this  moment  and  fetch  me  a  coach,  and  if  you  cannot 
obtain  one,  find  me  a  safe  guide  who  will  accompany 
me  and  conduct  me  to  the  H6tel  de  Saint-Dizier,  Rue  de 
Babylone.  I  will  liberally  reward  this  person,  and  you 
likewise." 

«  Come,"  said  Thomas,  "  will  you  leave  off  talking 
such  nonsense  and  come  along  with  us?  What  is  the 
good  of  running  on  in  that  way  ?    La  !  we're  used  to  it." 

"  Take  care  !  "  said  Adrienne,  who  was  fain  to  try  every 
method  to  extricate  herself ;  "  if  you  attempt  to  detain 
me  here  forcibly,  you  will  be  sorry  for  it.  You  little 
know  the  consequences  you  will  draw  down  upon  your- 
selves ! " 

«  Will  you  come  to  bed,  or  will  you  not  ? "  repeated 
Gervase,  in  an  angry,  impatient  voice. 

"  Listen  to  me  !  "  exclaimed  Adrienne,  hastily.  "  Let 
me  out  of  this  house,  and  I  will  give  each  of  you  two 

212 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE. 


thousand  francs.  Do  you  not  think  it  sufficient?  Oh, 
then  I  will  give  you  ten,  twenty,  —  what  you  please! 
Am  I  not  rich  enough  to  content  you  ?  But  let  me  go 
hence  —  for  God's  sake  do  not  hinder  me!  Oh,  I  be- 
seech you,  let  me  go  !  I  will  not  stay !  It  terrifies  me 
to  death  !    I  —  "  cried  the  poor  girl,  in  distracting  tones. 

"  I  say,  Thomas,  she  bids  high.  Twenty  thousand 
francs  !    Not  so  bad,  is  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  let  her  alone,  Gervase ;  they  all  sing  the  same 
song  at  first." 

"  Well,  then,"  cried  Adrienne,  calling  all  her  energy 
and  determination  to  her  aid  in  her  present  desperate 
position,  "  since  neither  reasons,  prayers,  nor  threats 
avail  anything,  I  tell  you,  decidedly,  go  I  will,  and  this 
very  instant!  We  shall  see  whether  you  have  the 
audacity  to  employ  force  to  detain  me !  " 

So  saying,  Adrienne  proceeded  resolutely  towards  the 
door.  But  just  at  this  instant  the  wild,  harsh  screams 
that  had  preceded  the  struggle  which  had  so  terrified 
Adrienne  were  repeated,  only  this  time  there  was  no 
trampling  of  feet. 

"  Oh,  what  dreadful  cries ! "  said  Adrienne,  suddenly 
stopping,  and,  in  her  terror,  advancing  towards  the 
females.  "  Do  you  hear  those  cries  ?  Where  do  they 
come  from  ?  What  is  the  meaning  of  them  ?  What  house 
is  this  ?  What  dreadful  deeds,  0  God,  are  going  on 
in  it,  to  call  forth  such  fearful  screams?  And  there, 
too,"  added  she,  almost  wildly,  pointing  to  the  opposite 
building  with  its  illuminated  window,  before  which  the 
pallid  figure  kept  up  its  rapid  motion  with  untiring  per- 
severance ;  "  look  there,  I  say !  Do  you  see  ?  Tell  me, 
for  Heaven's  sake,  what  does  it  mean  ?  " 

«  Why,  if  you  particularly  want  to  know,"  answered 
Thomas,  "  that  person  over  there  is,  like  you,  not  over- 
strong  in  the  sense  way." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  exclaimed  Mile,  de  Cardoville, 
clasping  her  hands  with  terror.   "  For  mercy's  sake,  speak 

213 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


out,  and  tell  me  what  sort  of  a  house  this  is,  and  what 
they  do  in  it." 

"  What  they  will  do  to  you,  if  you  behave  bad,  and 
refuse  to  come  to  bed  when  you  are  told  to,"  answered 
Gervase,  with  a  scowl. 

"  They  will  just  put  that  on  you,"  said  Thomas,  hold- 
ing out  the  garment  she  carried  under  her  arm.  "  Yes, 
yes ;  that's  the  way  they  serve  such  as  give  trouble  in 
this  house,  —  they  just  clap  a  strait-waistcoat  on.  Do 
you  see  ? " 

"  Ah ! "  shrieked  Adrienne,  concealing  her  face  be- 
tween her  hands,  to  escape  from  so  horrible  a  sight. 

A  fearful  revelation  now  entered  her  mind ;  and  one 
glance  at  the  hideous  garment  carried  by  the  woman  told 
her  all. 

After  all  the  varied  emotions  of  so  trying  a  day,  this 
last  shock  produced  a  fearful  effect  on  her  overexcited 
frame  ;  a  faintness  seized  her,  her  hands  fell  listless  by 
her  side,  a  mortal  paleness  overspread  her  countenance, 
her  whole  body  trembled  almost  to  the  extinction  of  her 
breath,  as,  sinking  on  her  knees,  and  pointing  with 
averted  eyes  to  the  fear-inspiring  camisole  (or  jacket), 
she  faintly  and  in  almost  expiring  accents  cried : 

"  No,  no,  for  the  love  of  God ;  not  that  —  not  that ! 
Pardon,  pardon.  I  will  do  what  you  desire  me  — " 
And  then,  her  strength  being  utterly  exhausted,  she 
fainted,  and,  but  for  the  two  women  catching  her  in  their 
arms,  she  would  have  fallen  on  the  floor. 

"  I  declare  if  she  hasn't  fainted,"  said  Thomas.  "  Well, 
that's  lucky ;  now,  then,  we  can  take  her  nicely  to  her 
bed,  and  undress  her  without  any  bother  or  trouble." 

"  Well,  then,  you  just  carry  her,"  said  Gervase,  "  and 
I'll  take  the  lamp." 

And  accordingly  the  ponderous  arms  of  the  gigantic 
Thomas  seized  upon  poor  Adrienne,  and  carried  her  off 
as  easily  as  though  she  had  been  only  a  sleeping  infant, 
into  the  chamber  by  which  M.  Baleinier  had  disappeared. 

214 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE. 


This  apartment,  though  extremely  clean,  was  almost 
destitute  of  furniture  ;  a  green  paper  covered  the  walls  ; 
a  small,  low,  iron  bedstead  stood  in  a  corner  of  the  room  ; 
a  stove  placed  in  the  chimney  was  surrounded  by  an  iron- 
work, which  forbade  all  approach  to  it ;  a  table  affixed 
to  the  wall,  a  chair  standing  before  the  table,  but  like- 
wise riveted  firmly  to  the  flooring  ;  a  mahogany  commode 
and  a  straw  armchair  completed  the  scanty  fittings-up 
of  this  cold,  comfortless  chamber ;  the  windows,  without 
curtains,  were  lined  on  the  inside  with  iron  gratings,  so 
as  to  completely  prevent  the  inmates  of  the  gloomy 
apartment  from  doing  any  mischief  either  to  themselves 
or  the  panes  of  glass. 

It  was  in  this  miserable  chamber,  which  so  painfully 
contrasted  with  the  almost  fairy-like  elegance  of  the 
pavilion  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  that  Adrienne  was 
carried  by  Thomas,  who,  aided  by  Gervase,  laid  the  inan- 
imate form  of  Mile,  de  Cardoville  on  the  bed,  placing 
the  lamp  on  a  little  slab  at  the  head  of  it. 

While  one  of  the  keepers  held  her,  the  other  unfas- 
tened and  took  off  the  poor  girl's  kerseymere  dress,  her 
head  hanging  helplessly  on  her  bosom.  Although  she 
was  perfectly  insensible,  two  large  tears  trickled  slowly 
from  her  closed  eyelids,  whose  large  dark  lashes  marked 
the  transparent  whiteness  of  her  cheek,  while  her  ivory 
neck  and  bosom  were  covered  with  the  silky  tresses  of 
her  rich  golden  hair,  which  had  become  unfastened  when 
she  fell.  When  unlacing  her  bodice,  of  satin  less  soft, 
white,  and  delicate  than  the  youthful  form  which  rose  and 
fell  beneath  the  lace  and  cambric  which  surrounded  it, 
like  an  alabaster  figure  slightly  tinged  with  a  carnation 
hue,  the  horrible  touch  of  the  rough,  hard,  horny  hands  of 
the  old  hags,  without  completely  recalling  the  wandering 
senses  of  the  poor  victim  they  grasped,  yet  produced  a 
sort  of  spasmodic  shudder  as  their  coarse  fingers  came 
in  contact  with  the  bare  arms  and  shoulders  of  the  help- 
less girl  they  were  inflicting  their  brutal  torments  on. 

215 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  La !  what  little  tiny  feet !  "  said  the  one  who,  stoop- 
ing down,  was  taking  off  Adrienne's  shoes  and  stockings. 
"  I  declare,  I  could  hold  them  both  in  the  palm  of  my 
hand." 

And  well  enough  might  the  woman  break  forth  into 
admiration  of  the  small,  rosy  foot,  smooth  and  white  as 
that  of  a  child,  divested  by  their  officiousness  of  its 
delicate  covering,  and  exhibiting  the  appearance  of  an 
alabaster  model,  with  each  azure  vein  lightly  traced  over 
the  surface ;  while  the  ankle,  knee,  and  leg  might,  for 
fineness  of  proportion,  have  vied  with  the  celebrated 
hunting  Diana  of  antique  celebrity. 

"  And,  goodness  me  !  look  at  her  long  hair ! "  said 
Thomas ;  "  la !  how  soft  and  smooth  it  is,  to  be  sure ! 
I'm  certain  she'd  step  upon  it  if  she  was  only  upright. 
Well,  I  thinks  it  'oud  be  quite  a  pity  to  cut  it  off  when 
they  comes  to  put  the  ice  'top  of  her  head." 

And  so  saying,  Thomas,  after  her  rough  fashion, 
grasped  the  magnificent  mass  of  rich  hair  which  fell 
down  Adrienne's  back. 

Alas  !  it  was  no  longer  the  white  and  delicate  fingers  of 
Georgette,  Florine,  or  Hebe  arranging  the  beautiful  hair 
of  their  beloved  mistress,  with  as  much  affection  as  pride. 

And  as  the  coarse  touch  of  the  rough  hands  of  the 
two  keepers  offended  Adrienne's  delicate  skin,  she  expe- 
rienced a  repetition  of  the  same  nervous  shuddering 
which  had  first  attacked  her,  but  with  this  difference, 
that  each  attack  became  stronger  and  more  severe. 

Could  it  have  been  the  effect  of  a  sort  of  magnetic 
repulsion,  or  was  it  owing  to  the  severe  cold  of  the 
night,  that  Adrienne,  after  repeated  shivering  fits,  at 
length,  though  slowly,  recovered  her  senses  ? 

Words  cannot  describe  her  terror,  alarm,  and  horror, 
her  justly  indignant  wrath,  when,  on  coming  to  herself, 
and  pushing  back  the  long  floating  curls  which  covered 
her  t&Ge,  she  found  herself  in  a  manner  half  naked,  and 
in  the  hands  of  these  diabolical  old  women. 

216 


\ 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE. 


A  cry  of  shame  and  offended  modesty,  mingled  with 
terror,  burst  from  the  lips  of  Adrienne.  Then,  in  order 
to  save  herself  the  insult  of  being  exposed  to  the  gaze  of 
the  two  hags  who  surrounded  her,  she  hastily  knocked 
over  the  lamp,  which  had  been  placed  on  a  small  slab 
near  the  bed ;  the  lamp  fell  upon  the  floor,  and,  after 
emitting  a  few  sparks,  became  utterly  extinguished. 

Then,  wrapped  in  the  miserable  covering  of  the  bed, 
and  surrounded  by  perfect  darkness,  the  unhappy  girl 
gave  vent  to  her  wretchedness  in  hysteric  sobs  and  con- 
vulsive moans.  The  keepers,  putting  their  own  construc- 
tion on  the  violent  action  of  Adrienne,  attributed  it  to  a 
paroxysm  of  delirium. 

"  Oh,  what,  you  have  got  back  to  your  old  trick  of 
breaking  and  putting  out  lamps,  have  you?"  cried 
Thomas,  deeply  incensed  at  having  to  grope  her  way 
about  in  the  dark.  «  Well,  I  warned  you  of  it !  Now 
to-night  you  shall  wear  the  strait-waistcoat,  like  the 
mad  woman  overhead  ! " 

_  "  So  she  shall ! "  returned  the  other.  «  But  hold  her 
tight,  Thomas,  while  I  go  and  get  a  light ;  and  then,  I 
dare  say,  between  us,  we  shall  manage  to  make  her 
quiet." 

"  Make  haste,  then ;  for,  spite  of  her  seeming  gentle- 
ness, it  is  my  idea  she  is  as  raving  mad  as  she  can  be, 
and  that  we  must  make  up  our  minds  to  sit  up  all  niffht 
with  her." 

What  a  sad  and  wretched  contrast  between  the  rising 
and  the  setting  of  that  day's  sun  !  In  the  morning 
Adrienne  had  risen  happy,  smiling,  and  free  from  all 
oppressive  interference  with  her  liberty;  her  eyes  had 
opened  upon  all  the  rich  treasures  of  art  and  luxury, 
and  her  toilet  was  waited  upon  by  the  tender,  delicate,' 
and  attached  girls  she  had  chosen  to  be  about  her  per- 
son. In  her  generous  and  sportive  humour  she  had 
prepared  for  her  relation,  the  young  Indian  prince,  a 

217 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


magnificent  and  fairy-like  surprise.  She  had  also  taken 
the  most  noble  resolution  as  regarded  the  young  orphans 
Dagobert  had  brought  from  so  distant  a  land.  During 
her  interview  with  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  she  had 
shown  herself,  by  turns,  proud,  yet  highly  sensitive ; 
melancholy,  yet  gay,  ironical,  and  grave ;  firm,  true  to 
herself,  noble,  and  courageous ;  and  her  only  reason  for 
entering  into  this  accursed  house  had  been  to  solicit 
pardon  and  indulgence  for  an  honest  and  industrious 
artisan. 

And  night  found  the  same  Mile.  Cardoville  delivered, 
by  base  treachery,  into  the  unworthy  hands  of  two 
keepers  of  a  madhouse,  with  her  delicate  limbs  impris- 
oned in  one  of  those  horrible  accompaniments  to  a 
lunatic  asylum,  —  a  strait-waistcoat. 

Mile,  de  Cardoville,  guarded  by  the  two  hags,  passed  a 
night  of  indescribable  wretchedness. 

What  was  the  utter  astonishment  of  the  poor  girl 
when,  about  nine  o'clock  on  the  following  morning,  she 
saw  Doctor  Baleinier,  wearing  the  same  bland,  smiling, 
paternal  air,  enter  her  miserable  apartment ! 

"  Well,  my  child,"  inquired  he,  in  a  voice  of  soft  and 
affectionate  inquiry,  "  how  have  you  passed  the  night  ? " 


218 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  VISIT. 

The  keepers  of  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  yielding  to  her 
entreaties,  and  particularly  to  her  promise  to  be  obedi- 
ent, had  only  kept  the  strait-waistcoat  upon  her  for 
a  portion  of  the  night.  When  daylight  came  she  had 
risen  and  dressed  herself,  unaided  and  unhindered. 

Adrienne  was  seated  on  the  edge  of  her  bed.  Her 
extreme  pallor,  the  excessive  alteration  in  her  features, 
her  eyes  sparkling  with  the  deep  fire  of  fear,  and  the 
convulsive  shudderings  of  her  frame  from  time  to  time, 
already  bore  testimony  to  the  fearful  consequences  of 
this  horrible  night  in  a  frame  so  easily,  delicately 
organised,  and  nervously  sensitive. 

At  the  sight  of  Doctor  Baleinier  (at  whose  signal 
Gervase  and  Thomas  left  the  room),  Mile,  de  Cardoville 
was  petrified.  She  'experienced  a  kind  of  vertigo  when 
she  thought  of  the  audacity  of  this  man,  who  dared  to 
present  himself  before  her. 

But  when  the  physician  repeated,  in  his  bland  tone, 
and  with  a  voice  which  conveyed  feelings  of  the  deepest 
interest,  "  Well,  my  poor  dear  child,  how  have  you  passed 
the  night  ?  "  Adrienne  lifted  her  hands  suddenly  to  her 
burning  brow,  as  if  to  ascertain  whether  she  were  waking 
or  dreaming ;  then,  looking  at  the  physician,  her  lips  half 
opened,  but  they  shook  so  fearfully  that  she  could  not 
articulate  a  syllable. 

219 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Anger,  indignation,  contempt,  and,  above  all,  that 
resentment  so  severely  painful,  which  confidence  basely 
betrayed  excites  in  noble  hearts,  so  utterly  bewildered 
Adrienne,  that,  overcome  and  intensely  suffering,  she 
was  unable,  in  spite  of  every  effort,  to  break  silence. 

"Come,  come,  I  see  what  it  is!"  said  the  doctor, 
shaking  his  head,  sorrowfully.  "  You  are  very  angry 
with  me,  aren't  you  ?  Well,  I  expected  so,  my  dear 
child  ! " 

These  words,  uttered  with  unblushing  hypocrisy,  made 
Adrienne  almost  bound  from  her  seat.  She  rose,  her 
pale  cheeks  flushed  to  scarlet,  her  full  black  eye  glitter- 
ing, and  raising  her  lovely  countenance  haughtily ;  her 
upper  lip  was  slightly  curled  by  a  smile  of  bitter  disdain  ; 
and  then,  silent  but  indignant,  the  young  girl  passed  in 
front  of  M.  Baleinier,  who  was  still  sitting,  and  went 
towards  the  door  with  a  quick  and  firm  step.  It  was 
the  door  in  which  was  the  small  wicket,  which  was  closed 
externally. 

Adrienne  turned  around  towards  the  doctor,  pointed 
to  the  door,  and  with  an  imperious  gesture  said  to  him  : 
"  Open  this  door  !  " 

"  Come,  my  dear  Mile.  Adrienne,"  said  the  physician, 
"calm  yourself  — let  us  talk  like  good  friends  — for 
you  know  I  am  your  friend ; "  and  then  calmly  took  a 
pinch  of  snuff. 

"What,  sir!"  said  Adrienne,  in  a  voice  tremulous 
with  anger,  "Am  I  not  to  leave  this  place  to-day?" 

"  Alas !  No  —  in  such  an  excited  state  !  If  you  knew 
how  inflamed  your  face  was  —  how  burning  your  eyes 
seem  !  Why,  your  pulse  must  be  at  eighty  a  minute ! 
I  entreat  you,  my  dear  child,  not  to  increase  all  these 
very  bad  symptoms  by  such  extreme  agitation!" 

After  having  looked  steadfastly  at  the  doctor,  Adri- 
enne returned  slowly  to  the  bedside,  and  again  seated 
herself. 

"That's  right!"  said  M.  Baleinier;  "be  calm  — be 

220 


THE  VISIT. 


moderate  —  and,  I  say  again,  let  us  talk  like  good 
friends." 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  replied  Adrienne,  in  a  brief, 
restrained,  and  utterly  calm  tone ;  "  let  us  talk  like 
friends.  You  desire  to  make  me  pass  for  a  mad  woman 
—  is  not  that  so  ?  " 

"  I  desire,  my  child,  that  one  day  you  shall  feel  for 
me  as  much  gratitude  as  to-day  you  entertain  aversion. 
This  aversion  I  foresaw ;  but,  painful  as  are  certain 
duties,  one  must  resign  oneself  to  all  the  unpleasantness 
of  carrying  them  out,"  said  Baleinier,  with  a  sigh,  and 
in  a  tone  so  natural  and  convincing  that  Adrienne  could 
not  repress  a  gesture  of  surprise,  followed  by  a  smile  of 
bitterness. 

"  Really !  Indeed  !  All  this,  then,  is  for  my  good  ? " 

"  It  is  really,  frankly,  my  dear  young  lady  !  Have  I 
ever  had  any  object  in  view  but  that  of  being  useful  to 
you?" 

"  I  hardly  know,  sir,  which  is  more  disgusting,  your 
impudence  or  your  base  treachery." 

"  Treachery  !  "  said  M.  Baleinier,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders with  a  gesture  of  pain.  " Treachery !  Reflect,  my 
poor  dear  !  Can  you  think  that,  if  I  were  not  acting 
faithfully  and  conscientiously  in  your  interest,  I  should 
return  this  morning  to  face  your  indignation,  which,  of 
course,  I  fully  expected  ?  I  am  the  head  physician 
of  this  Maison  de  Sante,  which  belongs  to  me.  I  have 
two  pupils  here,  medical  men  like  myself,  who  act  with 
and  for  me,  and  I  might  have  transferred  to  them  the 
charge  and  care  of  you ;  but  no,  I  would  not  do  so.  I 
knew  your  disposition,  your  character,  all  your  former 
life ;  and,  moreover,  putting  aside  all  the  interest  I  bear 
you,  I  could,  better  than  any  other  person,  treat  you 
properly." 

Adrienne  had  listened  to  M.  Baleinier  without  inter- 
rupting him.  She  now  gazed  at  him  steadfastly,  and 
then  said: 

221 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Monsieur,  how  much  are  you  to  be  paid  for  making 
me  pass  for  a  lunatic  ? " 

"  Mademoiselle  !  "  exclaimed  M.  Baleinier,  wounded 
in  spite  of  his  sang-froid. 

"I  am  rich,  as  you  know,"  replied  Adrienne,  with 
supreme  disdain.  «  I  will  double  the  sum  they  are  to 
give  you.  Now  then,  sir,  in  the  name  of  that  — friend- 
ship which  you  referred  to,  at  least  let  me  be  the  best 
bidder  !  " 

"Your  keepers,  in  their  report  of  the  night's  pro- 
ceedings, have  informed  me  that  you  made  them  a 
similar  proposition,"  said  M.  Baleinier,  resuming  his 
usual  presence  of  mind. 

"  Your  pardon,  sir !  I  offered  to  them  what  may  be 
offered  to  poor,  uneducated  women,  who  are  forced  by 
misfortune  to  accept  the  painful  situations  they  occupy  ; 
but  you,  sir,  a  man  of  the  world,  a  man  of  profound 
knowledge,  a  man  of  clear  understanding,  are  very 
differently  situated;  we  must  bid  very  much  higher. 
There  is  treachery  of  all  prices ;  therefore  I  pray  you 
not  to  found  your  refusal  on  the  smallness  of  my  offers 
to  these  poor  creatures.  Come,  tell  me  how  much  must 
it  be  ? " 

"  The  keepers,  in  their  nightly  report,  have  also  re- 
ferred to  your  threats,"  replied  M.  Baleinier,  very  calmly ; 
"  have  you  none  of  these  for  me  also  ?  Ah,  my  dear 
child,  take  my  advice,  and  let  us  at  once  lose  sight  and 
mention  of  all  attempts  at  bribery  and  threats  of  ven- 
geance ;  let  us  rather  come  at  once  to  the  reality  of  our 
position." 

"  What!  my  threats  are  vain,  are  they?"  exclaimed 
Mile,  de  Cardoville,  allowing  all  her  indignation,  so 
utterly  restrained  until  that  moment,  to  burst  forth  in 
its  fullest  flow.  «  What,  sir  !  You  believe  that  when 
I  leave  this  place  (for  my  confinement  must  have  an 
end)  that  I  shall  not  loudly  proclaim  your  perfidious 
treatment !    Ah,  you  believe  that  I  will  not  hold  up  to 

222 


THE  VISIT. 


full  exposure,  to  public  infamy,  all  your  infamous  com- 
plicity with  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier !  You  believe  that 
I  will  be  silent  as  to  the  horrible  treatment  I  have  ex- 
perienced !  But,  sir,  mad  as  I  may  be,  I  know  that  there 
are  laws,  and  I  will  demand  a  full  and  open  reparation 
for  all  I  have  endured,  and  shame,  reproach,  and  chas- 
tisement for  you  and  your  accomplices  !  And,  mark  me, 
I  beg  !  Henceforth  there  will  be  hatred  —  war  to  death  ; 
and  I  will  use  on  my  part  all  my  strength,  understanding, 
and  —  " 

"  My  dear  Mile.  Adrienne,  allow  me  to  interrupt  you," 
said  the  doctor,  who  was  perfectly  calm  and  affectionate. 
"  Nothing  can  be  more  calculated  to  retard  your  cure  than 
false  and  foolish  hopes  ;  they  will  keep  you  in  a  state  of 
deplorable  excitement.  It  is,  therefore,  necessary  that  I 
should  state  facts  clearly,  in  order  that  you  may  more 
thoroughly  see  and  appreciate  your  position.  First,  it  is 
impossible  that  you  can  quit  this  place ;  secondly,  you 
cannot  have  any  communication  outside  these  walls ; 
thirdly,  no  persons  enter  here  but  those  on  whom  I  can 
fully  rely ;  fourthly,  I  am  completely  protected  from 
your  threats  and  your  vengeance,  and  the  more  so  be- 
cause all  circumstances  and  all  right  are  in  my  favour." 

"  All  right !    To  shut  me  up  here  —  " 

"  That  would  not  have  been  resorted  to,  if  a  crowd  of 
the  most  serious  reasons  had  not  rendered  it  necessary." 

"  Oh,  there  are  reasons  ?  " 

"  Unfortunately,  but  too  many." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  be  so  indulgent  as  to  enumerate 
them  ? " 

"  Alas  !  they  are  but  too  apparent ;  and  if,  one  day,  you 
should  appeal  to  law,  as  you  have  but  just  now  threatened, 
then,  to  our  extreme  regret,  we  shall  be  compelled  to  ad- 
duce them  :  the  more  than  singular  eccentricity  of  your 
mode  of  life,  your  style  of  dressing  your  waiting- 
women,  your  unbounded  expenditure,  the  history  of 
the  Indian  prince,  to  whom  you  offer  a  royal  hospi- 

223 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


tality,  your  unheard-of  resolution,  at  eighteen  years  of 
age,  to  prefer  leading  a  life  like  a  bachelor,  the  adven- 
ture of  the  man  who  was  found  concealed  in  your  sleep- 
ing apartment,  —  in  fact,  the  process  verbal  of  your 
yesterday's  interrogatory  would  be  produced,  as  it  was 
faithfully  taken  down  by  a  person  engaged  for  that 
especial  purpose." 

"  How  !  Yesterday  !  "  exclaimed  Adrienne,  with  equal 
surprise  and  indignation. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  in  order  to  be  perfectly  en  regie,  if,  at  some 
future  day,  you  should  misinterpret  the  interest  we  take 
in  you,  we  had  your  replies  taken  down  in  shorthand  by 
a  man  who  was  placed  in  an  adjoining  room  behind  the 
falling  curtains  ;  and  really,  when  your  mind  is  calmer, 
and  you  will  one  day  read  over  this  interrogatory  calmly, 
you  will  not  be  astonished  at  the  resolution  we  were 
compelled  to  resort  to." 

"  Continue,  sir,"  said  Adrienne,  with  disdain. 

"  The  facts,  as  I  allude  to  them,  being  thus  substan- 
tiated and  recognised,  you  must  see,  my  dear  Mile. 
Adrienne,  that  the  responsibility  of  those  who  love  you 
is  perfectly  protected ;  they  have  tried,  as  they  were 
bound  to,  to  cure  that  derangement  of  mind  which,  it  is 
true,  only  betrays  itself  by  singular  manias,  but  which 
would  seriously  compromise  your  future  if  they  were 
more  developed.  As  far  as  my  opinion  goes,  a  gradual 
cure  may  be  hoped  for,  thanks  to  a  system  at  once  moral 
and  physical,  the  first  step  of  which  is  to  remove  you 
from  the  fantastic  arrangements  which  were  around 
you,  and  which  excited  your  fancy  so  highly ;  whilst, 
living  here  in  retreat,  in  the  soothing  calm  of  a  simple 
and  solitary  life,  my  constant  and  anxious,  I  ought  to 
say  paternal,  care,  will  by  degrees  accomplish  a  perfect 
cure." 

"  So,  then,  sir,"  said  Adrienne,  with  a  bitter  smile, 
"  the  love  of  a  perfect  independence,  generosity,  the 
cultivation  of  the  beautiful,  hatred  for  all  that  is  odious 

224 


THE  VISIT. 


and  base,  —  these  are  the  maladies  of  which  you  would 
cure  me !  I  fear  I  am  incurable,  for  it  is  a  long  while 
since  my  aunt  began  to  try  this  cure." 

"  It  may  be  that  we  do  not  succeed,  but  at  least  we 
will  try.  You  must  observe  that  there  are  a  mass  of 
circumstances  sufficiently  serious  to  authorise  our  deter- 
mination, which  was  come  to  at  a  family  consultation, 
and  that  completely  protects  me  from  your  menaces ;  it 
was  to  this  I  meant  to  recur.  A  man  of  my  age  and 
consideration  never  acts  inconsiderately  under  these 
circumstances.  So  now  you  will  comprehend  what  I 
said  to  you  just  now ;  in  a  word,  do  not  indulge  a  hope 
of  leaving  this  house  before  your  perfect  cure  has  been 
affected,  and  believe  that  I  am,  and  shall  be  always,  pro- 
tected from  your  threats.  This  well  understood,  let  us 
now  discourse  of  the  actual  state  in  which  you  are,  with 
all  the  interest  with  which  you  inspire  me." 

"  I  think,  sir,  that  if  I  am  a  lunatic,  you  speak  to  me 
very  rationally." 

"  You  a  lunatic  !  Thanks  be  to  Heaven,  my  poor  dear 
child,  you  are  not  so  yet ;  and  I  trust,  by  my  care,  you 
never  will  be.  To  prevent  such  a  sad  consequence,  it 
was  necessary  to  check  in  time,  and,  believe  me,  it  was 
more  than  time.  You  look  at  me  with  an  air  of  sur- 
prise—  of  doubt.  Consider,  now,  what  interest  can  I 
have  in  talking  to  you  thus  ?  Is  it  to  indulge  your 
aunt's  hatred  ?  Why  should  I  do  that  ?  What  did  she 
do  for  or  against  me  ?  I  do  not  think  of  her  at  this 
moment  less  or  more  than  I  did  }resterday.  Do  I  use 
new  language  to  you  ?  Have  I  not  often  —  yesterday  — 
spoken  to  you  of  the  excitement  so  dangerous  to  your 
understanding,  of  your  capricious  fancies  ?  I  have  used 
a  stratagem  to  get  you  here,  —  that's  true !  I  seized 
with  eagerness  the  opportunity  which  you  yourself 
offered  to  me,  —  that  is  also  true,  poor  dear  child ! 
For  I  know  you  never  would  have  come  here  will- 
ingly, and  one  day  or  other  we  must  have  sought  some 

225 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

pretext  to  bring  you  hither  ;  and,  mafoi,  I  confess  I  did 
say,  <  Her  interest  before  anything !  Do  your  duty, 
happen  what  may.'  "  J 

As  M.  Baleinier  spoke,  Adrienne's  countenance,  until 
then  alternately  expressive  of  indignation  and  disdain 
assumed  a  singular  mixture  of  anguish  and  horror. 

Hearing  this  man  express  himself  in  a  manner  appar- 
ently so  natural  and  sincere,  so  convincing,  and  really  so 
just  and  so  natural,  she  felt  more  fearful  than  ever.  A 
base  treachery,  clothed  in  such  a  guise,  frightened  her  a 
hundred  times  more  than  the  hatred  frankly  avowed  by 
Madame  de  Saint-Dizier.  She  found,  indeed,  that  auda- 
cious hypocrisy  so  monstrous,  that  she  thought  it  actually 
impossible.  J 

Adrienne  had  so  little  of  the  art  of  concealing  her  re- 
sentment, that  the  physician,  who  was  a  skilful  and 
profound  physiognomist,  perceived  the  impression  he  had 
made. 

"  Come,"  thought  he,  «  this  is  a  great  step,  — to  dis- 
dain and  anger,  fright  has  succeeded.  Doubt  is  not  far 
off.  I  shall  not  leave  her  without  her  saying,  <  Return 
soon,  my  good  M.  Baleinier  ! '  " 

The  physician  replied,  in  a  voice  so  sad  and  full  of 
emotion  that  it  appeared  to  come  from  the  very  bottom 
of  his  heart : 

" 1  see>  1  see,  you  are  still  distrustful  of  me,  —  what  I 
tell  you  is  but  a  lie,  cheat,  deceit,  hypocrisy,  hatred,  is  it 
not  ?  I  hate  you !  and  wherefore  ?  Oh,  what  have  you 
clone  to  me,  or  rather  —  you  will,  perhaps,  receive  this 
as  a  more  forcible  reason  from  a  man  like  me,"  added  M. 
Baleinier,  with  bitterness,  —  «  or  rather,  what  interest 
have  I  to  hate  you  ?  What,  you  !  You  who  are  only  in 
your  present  state  in  consequence  of  the  exaggeration  of 
your  most  generous  instincts,  you,  who  only  have  what 
may  be  termed  the  malady  of  your  qualities,  —  you  can 
coolly,  resolutely,  accuse  an  honest  man,  who  has  never, 
hitherto,  given  you  anything  but  proofs  of  his  affection  ! 

226 


THE  VISIT. 


To  accuse  him  of  the  most  cowardly,  black,  and  abomi- 
nable crime  with  which  manhood  can  be  stained  !  Yes, 
I  say  crime ;  because  the  atrocious  treason  of  which  you 
accuse  me  merits  no  other  name.  Ah,  my  poor  child, 
it  is  bad,  very  bad,  and  I  see  that  an  independent  mind 
can  display  as  much  injustice  and  intolerance  as  narrower 
dispositions ;  that  does  not  rouse  me,  but  it  pains  me 
deeply.    Yes,  I  assure  you  deeply,  —  deeply." 

And  the  doctor  passed  his  hands  over  his  moistened 
eyes. 

We  cannot  pretend  to  describe  the  accent,  the  look,  the 
countenance,  the  attitude,  of  M.  Baleinier,  as  he  thus 
expressed  himself. 

The  most  skilful  and  practised  advocate,  the  first 
comedian  in  the  world,  could  not  have  played  his  part 
better  than  the  doctor  enacted  the  scene ;  indeed,  no 
person  could  have  performed  it  so  well,  for  M.  Baleinier, 
carried  away  by  the  situation  in  spite  of  himself,  was 
himself  half  convinced  of  what  he  said. 

In  a  word,  he  felt  all  the  horror  of  his  perfidy,  but  he 
knew  also  that  Adrienne  could  not  credit  it ;  for  it  is 
those  plottings  which  are  so  horrible  that  sincere  hearts 
can  never  give  their  belief  to  as  possible  ;  and,  then,  if  an 
elevated  mind  will  look  into  the  abyss  of  evil,  beyond  a 
certain  depth,  it  is  seized  with  a  vertigo,  and  can  no 
longer  distinguish  anything. 

And  then,  too,  even  the  most  evil-disposed  have  a  day, 
an  hour,  a  moment,  in  which  what  God  has  put  of  good 
into  the  heart  of  every  creature  will  be  elevated  in  spite 
of  themselves. 

Adrienne  was  too  interesting,  she  was  in  a  position  too 
cruel,  for  the  doctor  not  to  feel  in  his  heart  some  pity  for 
the  unfortunate  girl ;  the  obligation  he  had  long  been 
under  to  appear  to  show  sympathy  for  her,  the  full  con- 
fidence which  the  young  girl  had  in  him,  had  become  for 
this  man  pleasant  and  cherished  habits,  —  but  sympathy 
and  habits  must  yield  before  implacable  necessity. 

227 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


And  so  did  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  act  by  the  mother 
he  idolised  ;  unheeding  even  the  dying  breath  which  called 
him  to  her  bedside,  that  she  might  look  on  his  face  yet 
once  again,  spite  of  his  passionate  adoration  of  this 
parent,  he  departed  at  the  bidding  of  his  Order,  and  the 
expiring  mother  was  forgotten.  How,  then,  after  so  stern 
an  example  of  the  trampling  under  foot  of  even  the  most 
sacred  and  holy  duties,  could  it  be  expected  that  M. 
Baleinier  would  hesitate  to  sacrifice  Adrienne  ?  'Tis 
true  the  members  of  the  Order  to  which  he  belonged 
were  bound  to  him,  but  he  was  infinitely  more  their  slave 
than  they  could  ever  be  his,  for  a  long  partnership  in 
crimes  creates  indissoluble  and  terrible  bonds. 

At  the  moment  when  M.  Baleinier  had  finished  speak- 
ing so  warmly  to  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  the  outer  plank 
of  the  wicket  of  the  door  glided  noiselessly  back  into 
its  groove,  and  two  eager  eyes  attentively  surveyed  both 
the  chamber  and  all  that  was  passing  in  it. 

M.  Baleinier,  however,  observed  not  the  action,  or  the 
opening  of  the  wicket. 

Adrienne  could  not  detach  her  gaze  from  the  eyes  of 
the  doctor,  which  appeared  to  possess  a  sort  of  fascination 
over  her.  Silent,  oppressed,  and  under  the  influence  of 
a  vague  and  indistinct  terror,  she  felt  herself  incapable 
of  penetrating  the  dark  recesses  of  such  a  mind  as  the 
doctor's;  yet  affected,  in  spite  of  herself,  by  the  half 
real,  half  feigned  sincerity  of  his  words,  as  well  as  the 
touching  sympathy  of  the  voice  in  which  he  spoke,  for  a 
moment  she  doubted  his  being  really  the  enemy  she  had 
fancied. 

For  the  first  time  the  idea  suggested  itself  to  her  that, 
although  M.  Baleinier  had  committed  a  fearful  error,  yet 
that  his  motives  in  acting  as  he  had  done  were  well 
intentioned. 

Added  to  this,  the  sufferings  of  the  past  night,  the 
dangers  of  her  present  situation,  acting  upon  her  feverish 
and  excitable  temperament,  all  conspired  to  create  a 

228 


THE  VISIT. 


degree  of  uneasy  and  anxious  thought  in  the  mind  of  the 
poor  girl,  who  kept  watching  every  turn  and  expression 
of  the  doctor's  face  with  increasing  surprise  and  wonder ; 
then,  making  a  violent  effort  to  hinder  herself  from 
yielding  to  a  weakness  whose  fearful  consequences  she 
vaguely  perceived,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  No,  no,  monsieur ;  I  neither  can  nor  ought  to  credit 
what  you  say  ;  you  have  too  much  skill,  too  great  experi- 
ence, to  be  capable  of  committing  such  a  mistake  !  " 

« A  mistake !  "  said  M.  Baleinier,  in  a  grave  and 
mournful  voice.  "  A  mistake  !  Allow  me,  in  the  name 
of  that  skill  and  experience  for  which  you  give  me 
credit,  to  say  a  few  words.  Listen  to  me,  my  dear 
young  lady,  for  a  short  time,  and  then  I  need  only 
appeal  to  yourself." 

"  To  me  ! "  replied  Adrienne,  almost  speechless  with 
surprise.  "  Why,  would  you  seek  to  persuade  me 
that  — "  Then  interrupting  herself  she  added,  with  a 
burst  of  convulsive  laughter,  "  Certainly  it  needed  only 
that  I  should  pronounce  myself  mad  to  complete  your 
triumph  ;  that  I  should  confess  my  place  is  in  a  mad- 
house, and  thank  you  for  having  put  me  there." 

"  I  am  certainly  entitled  to  your  thanks,  as  I  told  you 
at  the  commencement  of  this  conversation.  Listen  to 
me,  then.  My  words  may  seem  cruel,  for  some  wounds 
cannot  be  cured  without  the  aid  of  the  knife  or  the 
caustic.  Let  me  beseech  of  you,  my  dear  child,  to 
reflect  a  little ;  cast  an  impartial  retrospect  over  your 
past  life ;  recall  even  your  thoughts,  and  you  will  be 
afraid  to  look  back  upon  them.  Remember  those  periods 
of  enthusiastic  flightiness,  in  which  you  have  asserted 
that  you  felt  as  though  you  did  not  belong  to  this  earth ; 
and  above  all,  at  this  moment,  while  your  reason  is  still 
equal  to  the  task,  compare  your  life  with  that  of  other 
young  females  of  your  age.  Can  you  tell  me  of  one  that 
has  lived  as  you  have  done  ?  Who  thinks  like  you  ? 
Unless,  indeed,  you  fancied  yourself  so  superior  to  all 

229 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

others  of  your  sex,  that  you  would  fain  arrogate  to  yourself 
the  right  of  leading  a  life  entirely  at  variance  with  the 
notions,  habits,  and  customs  of  the  world  you  belong  to." 

"  You  know  perfectly  well,"  said  Adrienne,  regarding 
the  doctor  with  increasing  terror,  "  that  I  have  never 
been  actuated  by  so  silly  a  pride." 

"  Then,  how,  my  poor  child,  are  we  to  account  for 
your  strange  and  inexplicable  manner  of  living  ?  Could 
you  ever,  for  one  instant,  persuade  even  yourself  that  it 
was  reconcilable  with  common  sense  ?  Ah,  my  child, 
beware  !  You  have  at  present  merely  indulged  in  charm- 
ing originalities,  poetical  fancies,  vague  yet  delicious 
dreams  —  but  the  bias  they  give  is  as  fatal  as  irresisti- 
ble. Oh,  beware,  beware !  The  strong,  healthful  part 
of  your  graceful  and  imaginative  mind,  having  at  present 
the  ascendant  over  your  weaker  faculties,  merely  permits 
your  actions  to  wear  the  form  of  whimsical  eccentric- 
ities;  but  you  know  not,  —  you  cannot  imagine  with 
what  fearful  certainty,  what  overpowering  violence,  the 
irrational  part  of  your  brain  will  develop  itself,  and, 
at  a  given  moment,  stifle  the  more  intellectual  portion. 
Then  yours  will  be  no  longer  mere  graceful  nights  of 
fancy,  or  elegant  caprices ;  they  will  become  the  wild, 
insane  doings  of  a  wandering  mind,  the  hideous  calcula- 
tions of  a  lunatic  ! " 

"Alas,  you  fill  me  with  terror!"  interrupted  the 
unhappy  girl,  pressing  her  trembling  hands  tightly  across 
her  burning  forehead. 

"  Then,"  continued  M.  Baleinier,  in  an  agitated  tone, 
"  then  the  last  glimmer  of  sense  becomes  extinguished, 
and  madness  — yes,  the  dreadful  word  must  be  spoken 
—  madness  seizes  the  brain,  and  bursts  forth  in  all  the 
wild,  furious  actions  of  a  creature  from  whom  the  guid- 
ing ray  of  reason  has  for  ever  fled." 

"  Like  the  unhappy  female  up  there,"  murmured  Adri- 
enne, as,  with  fixed,  feverish  eye,  she  gazed  at  the  ceiling, 
pointing  to  it  with  her  finger. 

230 


THE  VISIT. 


"Occasionally,"  resumed  the  doctor,  terrified  at  the 
too  evident  effect  of  his  words  on  the  poor  victim,  yet 
yielding,  in  spite  of  his  better  feelings,  to  the  inexorable 
fatality  of  the  situation  in  which  he  was  placed,  "occa- 
sionally, madness  assumes  the  form  of  stupidity  and 
brutality,  leaving  the  unhappy  being  afflicted  by  it  only 
the  outward  resemblance  to  a  human  being ;  with  merely 
the  instincts  of  an  animal, —  eating  voraciously,  and  keep- 
ing up  the  same  incessant  motion  in  the  cell  in  which  they 
are  necessarily  confined,  and  in  that  manner  to  pass  the 
whole  of  their  lives  — all  of  it  — for  not  a  shadow  of 
hope  remains." 

"  Like  the  female  out  there,"  cried  Adrienne,  becom- 
ing more  and  more  excited  and  wild  in  her  looks,  as  she 
extended  her  arm  towards  that  part  of  the  opposite 
building  which  could  be  distinctly  seen  through  the  win- 
dow of  her  chamber. 

"  A1as,  yes !  "  replied  M.  Baleinier.  «  Like  you,  un- 
fortunate child,  these  females  were  young,  beautiful,  and 
clever ;  but,  like  you,  they  had  within  them  the  fearful 
germ  of  insanity,  which,  not  being  destroyed  in  time, 
has  increased  and  increased,  until,  at  length,  it  has  en- 
tirely overgrown  their  reason  and  stifled  their  intellect." 

"  In  mercy,"  exclaimed  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  her  brain 
bewildered  with  intense  horror,  "  oh,  in  mercy  do  not 
tell  me  such  dreadful  things  !  Once  again,  I  tell  you, 
you  frighten  me,  — indeed,  indeed  you  do!  Oh,  take 
me  away!  Take  me  away,  I  say!  I  cannot  — I  dare 
not  stay  here.  For  God's  sake  remove  me  from  the 
place,"  cried  she,  in  tones  of  heart-wringing  agony,  "  or 
I  shall  finish  by  becoming  as  mad  as  others  are." 

Then,  struggling  with  the  intense  horror  which 
shook  her  frame,  spite  of  her  every  attempt  to  overcome 
it,  she  said  : 

"  But>  no ;  do  not  hope  it  I  shall  not  become  mad. 
I  am  in  full  possession  of  my  senses,  —  ay,  as  much  so  as 
you  are.    Can  you,  then,  expect  to  impose  on  me  with 

231 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

such  pictures  as  you  have  drawn?  True,  I  have  not 
lived  as  others  have  done,  neither  have  I  thought  with 
them.  True,  also,  I  have  felt  shocked  at  that  which 
appeared  to  give  no  offence  to  other  persons ;  but  what 
does  all  that  prove  ?  Simply  that  my  tastes,  disposition, 
and  character  were  dissimilar  to  theirs.  Have  I  ex- 
hibited a  cold  or  wicked  heart  ?  Have  I  been  selfish 
or  unmindful  of  others  ?  I  am  aware  that  my  ideas  are 
full  of  whim  and  caprice  —  I  confess  it.  I  know  my 
imagination  is  full  of  dreams  and  fancies ;  but  you  know 
well,  M.  Baleinier,  their  aim  was  ever  generous  and 
elevated."  And  here  the  voice  of  Adrienne  trembled, 
and  sunk  almost  into  a  supplicating  tone,  while  tears 
coursed  rapidly  down  fher  pale  cheeks.  "  Never  have  I, 
to  my  knowledge,  committed  one  base  or  unworthy 
action  ;  and  if  I  have  done  wrong,  it  has  ever  been  from 
excess  of  generosity.  Surely  a  wish  to  heap  pleasure 
and  happiness  on  all  around  us  cannot  be  construed  into 
madness  ?  Besides,  we  can  feel  and  know  whether  we 
are  in  our  right  mind  or  not ;  and  I  am  perfectly  assured, 
whatever  I  may  be  driven  to,  I  am  not  yet  mad.  Still, 
Heaven  help  me  !  I  dread  —  I  know  not  what  —  the 
fearful  things  you  tell  me  of  the  two  females  I  have  seen 
and  heard  this  night,  make  me  —  you  ought  to  under- 
stand these  dreadful  circumstances  better  than  I  do  ; 
besides,"  added  Mile,  de  Cardoville,  relapsing  into  the 
most  perfect  despair,  and  elevating  her  voice  into  the 
accents  of  distracting  grief,  "  something  ought  to  be 
done  to  avert  these  horrible  consequences.  Why,  why, 
if  you  really  regarded  me,  have  you  suffered  my  malady 
to  remain  thus  long  unobserved  ?  Could  you  not  sooner 
have  taken  pity  on  me  ?  Alas,  alas !  the  most  cruel 
part  of  my  misery  consists  in  my  not  being  able  to  place 
confidence  in  your  words,  —  you  are  possibly  only  laying 
some  snare  to  entrap  me  afresh.  But,  no,  no  ;  that  can- 
not be  ;  you  weep  !  Nay,  then,  it  must  be  true  since 
you  attest  it  with  your  tears  !  " 

232 


THE  VISIT. 


As  Adrienne  finished  her  touching  appeal,  she  ear- 
nestly watched  the  countenance  of  M.  Baleinier,  who, 
spite  of  his  cold-hearted  selfishness,  could  not  restrain 
his  tears  at  the  sight  of  the  nameless  tortures  the  poor 
girl  underwent. 

"  Yes,  yes,  your  warm  tears  fall  on  my  hand ;  then  I 
dare  not  disbelieve  further.  God  of  mercy,  aid  and 
support  me !  But  you  can  do  something  for  me,  can 
you  not  ?  Oh,  I  will  be  obedient  to  all  you  tell  me.  I 
will  do  everything  you  wish  —  everything  —  that  I  may 
be  preserved  from  the  fate  of  the  women,  the  unfortunate 
creatures,  I  heard  and  saw  last  night.  What  if  it  should 
be  too  late  ?  But  no,  no ;  there  is  yet  time,  is  there 
not,  my  good,  my  kind  M.  Baleinier  ?  Oh,  pardon,  I 
beseech  you,  all  my  ungrateful  and  unthinking  speeches ! 
I  knew  not,  when  you  first  came  in  —  I  —  you  under- 
stand —  I  —  was  not  —  " 

And  as  these  broken  exclamations,  mingled  with 
heartbreaking  sobs,  died  away,  Adrienne  looked  for 
some  moments  wildly  around  the  room  with  a  sort  of 
feverish  eagerness,  then  sunk  perfectly  exhausted  into 
a  profound  silence,  which  lasted  some  time,  while  M. 
Baleinier's  tears  unconsciously  bore  testimony  to  the 
sympathy  he  could  not  help  feeling  for  the  unhappy 
girl. 

Adrienne  had  sat  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands ; 
all  at  once  she  raised  her  head,  her  features  were  calmer, 
though  still  exhibiting  a  degree  of  nervous  tremor. 

"M.  Baleinier,"  said  she,  with  touching  dignity,  "  I 
know  not  what  I  may  have  been  saying.  My  grief, 
I  fear,  had  temporarily  affected  my  brain,  but  I  am  now 
myself  again.  Listen  to  me !  I  am  in  your  power,  I 
know  it ;  and  I  am  equally  aware  no  human  power  can 
deliver  me  from  it.  Am  I  to  look  upon  you  as  an  im- 
placable enemy,  or  a  sincere  friend  ?  I  cannot  decide. 
And  do  you  really  and  truly  believe  that  what  is  merely 
flightiness  of  character  in  me  at  present  may  hereafter 

233 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

degenerate  into  madness,  or  are  you  an  accomplice  in 
some  diabolical  scheme  against  me  ?    You  alone  can 
answer  that  question.    Spite  of  my  resolution  and  cour- 
age, I  confess  myself  conquered.    Whatever  it  is  that  is 
required  of  me,  —  understand  me  well,  — whatever  may 
be  sought  for,  by  those  who  are  thus  cruelly  treating 
me,  I  accede  to  it,  before  I  even  know  what  I  am  prom- 
ising;  to  that  I  pledge  my  word,  and  you  well  know  how 
iaitMully  I  always  adhere  to  it.    There  cannot  be,  then 
any  further  motive  for  detaining  me  here.    If,  on  the 
contrary,  you  sincerely  believe  my  reason  is  in  danger 
and  I  will  confess  that  your  words  have  awakened  within 
me  a  fearful,  though  indistinct  apprehension  of  some 
awful  catastrophe,  then  tell  me  so,  calmly  and  dispas- 
sionately, and  I  will  believe  you.    I  am  wholly  at  your 
mercy ;  alone,  friendless,  and  unassisted  by  any  counsel 
but  my  own,  I  promise  to  trust  implicitly,  blindly  in  you 
But  do  I  address  a  friend  or  foe  ?    Am  I  supplicating  my 
deliverer  and  preserver,  or  my  destroyer  and  murderer? 
I  have  no  power  to  decide ;  but  I  say  this  much,  I  offer 
you  my  life,  my  future  prospects ;  take  either,  or  both, 
I  have  no  longer  strength  to  dispute  them  with  you." 

These  affecting  words,  pronounced  with  the  most 
touching  resignation  and  despairing  confidence,  gave  the 
last  blow  to  the  vacillations  of  M.  Baleinier's  mind 
Already  cruelly  moved  by  this  scene,  he  wished,  without 
reflecting  on  the  consequences  which  might  arise  from 
so  doing,  to  tranquillise  Adrienne's  mind  as  to  the  terri- 
ble and  unfounded  apprehensions  he  had  excited  within 
her  ;  and  these  sentiments  of  repentance  and  benevolence 
were  impressed,  in  legible  characters,  on  the  features  of 
Doctor  Baleinier.    They  were  only  too  legible. 

m  At  the  instant  that  he  stooped  towards  Mile,  de  Cardo- 
ville,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  her  hand,  a  sharp,  shrill 
voice  was  heard  behind  the  wicket,  pronouncing  merelv 
the  words :  J 
"  Doctor  Baleinier  !  " 

234 


THE  VISIT. 


"  Rodin !"  murmured  the  doctor,  much  alarmed. 
"  Then  he  has  been  watching  me!" 

"  Who  was  it  called  you  ? "  inquired  the  poor  girl  of 
Baleinier. 

"  A  person  I  desired  to  meet  me  here  this  morning, 
for  the  purpose  of  accompanying  him  to  the  convent  of 
Ste.  Marie,  which  is  close  by,"  said  the  doctor,  in  much 
alarm  and  uneasiness. 

"And  what  is  your  reply  to  my  question?"  asked 
Adrienne,  in  a  state  of  agonising  suspense. 

After  a  short  interval  of  most  solemn  silence,  dur- 
ing which  the  doctor's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  wicket,  he 
said,  in  a  voice  of  deep  emotion  : 

"I  am  —  what  I  have  always  been,  —  a  friend,  in- 
capable of  deceiving  you." 

Poor  Adrienne's  features  assumed  the  paleness  of 
death.  Then,  extending  her  hand  to  M.  Baleinier,  she 
said,  in  a  voice  she  vainly  sought  to  render  calm : 

"  Thanks.  I  shall  have  the  necessary  courage.  Will 
it  last  very  long  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  a  month.  Solitude  —  reflection  —  a  suit- 
able regimen  — my  devoted  attention.  Make  yourself 
perfectly  easy ;  everything  that  is  consistent  with  your 
condition  will  be  allowed  you,  and  every  attention  shall 
be  shown  to  your  wishes.  If  you  disapprove  of  this 
chamber,  another  shall  be  provided  for  you." 

"No,"  replied  Adrienne,  oppressed  by  a  heavy  and 
profound  grief ;  «  no,  it  matters  little  where  I  am ;  one 
apartment  is  as  good  as  another." 

"Come,   come,   take    courage!     All    is   not  lost 
yet ! " 

"Perhaps  you  flatter  me,"  said  Adrienne,  with  a 
gloomy  smile  ;  and  then  added  : 

_  "  Farewell,  then,  for  the  present,  my  dear  M.  Balei- 
nier !    And  now  my  only  hope  is  in  you." 

So  saying,  her  head  dropped  on  her  breast,  her  hands 
fell  listlessly  in  her  lap,  and  she  remained  sitting  on 

235 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


the  side  of  her  bed,  —  pale,  motionless,  and  perfectly 
crushed. 

"  Mad !  "  cried  she,  as  M.  Baleinier  disappeared  ;  "  per- 
haps mad ! " 

We  have  permitted  ourselves  to  give  this  episode  at 
some  length,  because  it  is  in  reality  more  of  the  romance 
of  real  life  than  the  reader  may  imagine.  Many  a  time 
have  conflicting  interests,  motives  of  revenge,  or  per- 
fidious machinations  induced  those  concerned  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  imprudent  facility  with  which  the 
keepers  of  houses  for  the  reception  of  insane  persons 
will  receive  any  individual  committed  to  their  charge 
by  any  friend  or  relative,  however  false  or  treacherous. 

We  shall  hereafter  give  our  opinion  as  to  the  necessity 
of  establishing  some  interference  or  superintendence,  on 
the  part  of  the  civil  authorities,  who  might  arrange  a 
method  of  periodically  visiting  and  examining  into  the 
conduct  of  houses  destined  for  the  reception  of  insane 
persons,  as  well  as  other  institutions  not  less  important, 
though  even  still  more  overlooked  by  judicial  watchful- 
ness.   We  shall  revert  to  this  subject  again. 


236 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


PRESENTIMENTS. 

While  the  facts  just  narrated  were  passing  within 
the  Maison  de  Sante  belonging  to  Doctor  Baleinier, 
other  events  were  going  on  about  the  same  period  of 
time  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  under  the  humble  roof 
of  Francoise  Baudoin. 

Seven  o'clock  had  struck  from  the  church  of  St. 
Merry;  the  morning  was  dark  and  lowering,  and  the 
sleet  and  hail  pattered  against  the  casement  of  Fran- 
coise' s  gloomy  chamber. 

Ignorant  of  the  arrest  of  her  son,  the  poor  woman 
had  expected  him  in  the  evening,  as  usual ;  then,  a  prey 
to  a  thousand  fears,  she  had  kept  anxious  watch  till 
morning  was  far  advanced,  when,  worn  out  with  fatigue, 
weariness  and  anxiety,  she  threw  herself  on  her  mat- 
tress beside  the  bed  of  Rose  and  Blanche. 

With  the  first  dawn  of  day  the  unhappy  mother  arose 
and  ascended  to  the  attic  in  which  Agricola  slept,  in  the 
vain  hope  of  finding  he  might  have  returned  during  her 
short  slumber. 

The  sisters  also  arose,  and,  having  performed  their 
simple  toilet,  found  themselves  alone  in  the  cold,  cheer- 
less apartment. 

Killjoy,  who  had  been  left  behind  by  Dagobert,  was 
stretched  before  the  now  cold  stove,  while,  resting  his 
sagacious  nose  between  his  two  fore  paws,  he  never  took 
his  gaze  off  the  gentle  beings  he  seemed  to  understand 
he  was  exclusively  left  in  charge  of. 

237 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


The  orphans,  who  had  slept  but  little  during  the  night, 
had  been  witness  to  the  agitation  and  wretchedness  the 
wife  of  Dagobert  had  endured,  —  sometimes  they  ob- 
served her  pacing  the  little  chamber,  and  talking  to 
herself;  then  hurrying  at  the  least  sound  to  the  stair- 
case to  listen ;  and  when,  returning  from  her  fruitless 
errand,  she  would  place  herself  on  her  knees  before  a 
crucifix  placed  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  the  orphans 
doubted  not  but  that,  while  the  tender  mother  prayed 
for  her  son,  she  likewise  besought  Heaven  in  their 
favour,  for  the  state  of  their  minds  terrified  the  excel- 
lent woman. 

After  Dagobert's  precipitate  departure  for  Chartres, 
Frangoise,  having  assisted  Rose  and  Blanche  with  their 
toilet,  spoke  of  their  morning  prayers,  offering  to  join 
with  them,  but,  to  her  unutterable  surprise,  they  inno- 
cently assured  her  they  knew  no  other  form  of  prayer 
than  what  consisted  in  invoking  their  mother's  blessing 
from  the  heaven  they  were  told  she  dwelt  in.  And 
when  the  good  woman,  recovering  from  her  first  shock, 
questioned  them  as  to  their  knowledge  of  the  catechism, 
confirmation,  or  communion,  they  opened  their  large 
blue  eyes  with  profound  astonishment,  unable  to  com- 
prehend the  meaning  of  all  she  said. 

Acting  from  the  dictates  of  her  own  simple  religious 
belief,  the  wife  of  Dagobert  believed  the  souls  of  the 
orphans  to  be  in  a  more  perilous  state,  as,  having  to 
the  best  of  her  ability  explained  to  them  the  meaning  of 
baptism,  and  described  its  form  of  administration,  she 
inquired  whether  they  had  ever  been  admitted  into  the 
bosom  of  the  church,  and  received  for  answer  that,  to 
the  best  of  their  knowledge,  no  such  rite  could  have 
been  performed,  inasmuch  as  neither  priest  nor  church 
were  to  be  found  in  the  part  of  Siberia  in  which  they 
had  been  born  during  their  mother's  exile. 

When  the  strong  religious  bias  of  Franchise's  mind  is 
borne  in  view,  it  will  easily  be  imagined  with  what  in- 

238 


PRESENTIMENTS. 


tense  horror  she  looked  upon  these  young  creatures,  whom 
she  already  loved  tenderly  for  their  sweetness  and  gentle- 
ness of  character,  and  who  now  appeared  in  her  eyes  like 
poor  heathens  innocently  devoted  to  eternal  damnation. 
Unable  to  restrain  her  tears  or  conceal  her  terrors,  she 
clasped  them  tenderly  in  her  arms,  assuring  them  her 
first  care  should  be  to  take  the  necessary  steps  to  secure 
them  safety  from  the  perdition  which  awaited  them,  and 
bitterly  lamenting  that  it  should  not  have  occurred  to 
Dagobert  to  have  them  baptised  as  they  travelled  through 
so^  many  different  towns ;  and  it  must  be  candidly  ad- 
mitted that  so  pious  a  purpose  had  never  once  entered 
the  head  of  the  ci-devant  horse-soldier. 

When  Francoise  had  quitted  the  sisters  during  the 
day,  in  order  to  perform  her  sundry  duties,  she  durst 
not  take  them  with  her  to  church,  their  complete  igno- 
rance of  everything  connected  with  religion  rendering 
their  presence  in  the  sacred  building,  if  not  improper, 
at  least  useless;  but  in  her  prayers  Franchise  most 
fervently  besought  the  mercy  of  Heaven  in  favour  of 
two  poor  benighted  young  creatures,  who  knew  not  the 
perilous  state  of  their  own  darkened  souls. 

Rose  and  Blanche  then  were  left  alone  in  the  chamber, 
during  the  absence  of  Dagobert's  wife.  They  were  still 
in  their  deep  mourning,  while  their  lovely  countenances 
were  pensive,  if  not  sad.  Although  they  had,  from 
their  cradle,  been  accustomed  to  a  life  of  hardships,  yet, 
from  the  moment  of  their  arrival  in  the  Rue  Brise- 
Miche,  their  young  imaginations  had  been  deeply  struck 
with  the  difference  which  existed  between  the  humble 
abode  they  were  in,  and  the  marvels  their  youthful 
fancies  had  pictured  awaited  them  in  Paris,  that  golden 
city  of  their  dreams. 

But  soon  this  astonishment,  so  easily  imagined,  gave 
place  to  thoughts  of  considerable  gravity,  for  young 
persons  like  themselves;  and  the  aspect  of  poverty  so 
nobly  sustained,  and  toil  so  industriously  pursued,  made 

239 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


the  young  orphans  reflect  deeply,  not  merely  as  children, 
but  as  young  females  endowed  with  an  accurate  and 
observant  mind,  a  just  and  sympathising  spirit,  a  noble, 
generous  heart,  and  dispositions  at  once  delicate,  yet 
energetic  and  courageous.  During  the  last  twenty-four 
hours  they  had  seen  and  reflected  much. 

"  Sister,"  said  Rose  to  Blanche,  when  Franchise  had 
quitted  the  chamber,  "  Dagobert's  poor  wife  is  very 
uneasy ;  did  you  observe  how  miserable  she  was  all 
night  ?  how  she  wept,  and  then  prayed  ?  " 

"  I  was  as  much  grieved  as  yourself,  dear  sister,  at  the 
sight  of  her  grief ;  and  I  tried  even  to  guess  what  could 
have  occasioned  it.  I  think  I  know  what  gave  her  such 
pain.  Most  likely  it  is  we  who  are  the  cause  of  her 
distress." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  You  mean,  because  we  do 
not  know  any  prayers,  and  have  never  been  baptised  ?  " 

"  It  did,  indeed,  seem  to  grieve  her  sorely  to  find  us  so 
ignorant,  and  I  was  much  affected  by  it ;  because  it  proved 
how  tenderly  she  loved  us.  But  do  you  know,  I  could 
not  understand  the  terrible  danger  she  said  we  were  in." 

"  No  more  could  I,  my  dear  sister.  We  try  to  do 
nothing  which  could  displease  our  dear  mother,  since 
she  sees  and  knows  all  our  actions." 

"  And  we  love  every  one  who  loves  us ;  we  hate 
nobody,  and  we  submit  ourselves  to  whatever  happens 
to  us.    How,  then,  can  we  be  so  very  wicked  ? " 

"  I  know  not ;  only,  perhaps,  we  might  do  wrong 
things  without  intending  it." 

"  We,  dear  sister  !    How  could  we  ? " 

"  I  will  tell  you ;  and  that  is  what  I  was  going  to  say 
when  I  remarked  that  I  feared  it  was  us  who  occasioned 
the  uneasiness  experienced  by  Dagobert's  wife." 

"  Oh,  pray  tell  me,  then." 

"  Listen,  dear  sister.  Yesterday,  Madame  Franchise 
wished  to  work  at  those  coarse  cloth  bags  which  are 
on  the  table  there  —  " 

240 


PRESENTIMENTS. 


"  I  recollect ;  and  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  she  told 
us,  sorrowfully,  that  she  must  leave  off ;  that  she  could 
not  see  well  enough  even  for  that  coarse  work,  and  that 
her  eyesight  was  entirely  ruined." 

"  So  you  perceive  she  can  no  longer  work  for  her  own 
livelihood." 

"  No  ;  but  then  it  is  her  son  —  " 

"  M.  Agricola,  who  maintains  her.  Oh,  how  good  he 
seems !  He  looks  so  cheerful,  and  frank,  and  happy,  to 
devote  himself  to  his  mother !  He  is  indeed  worthy  of 
being  brother  to  our  angel  Gabriel." 

"  You  will  see  directly  why  I  mentioned  to  you  about 
M.  Agricola's  maintaining  his  mother  by  his  labour. 
Our  good  old  Dagobert  told  me  that  when  we  arrived 
here  he  had  only  a  few  pieces  of  money  remaining." 

"True." 

"  So  that  you  see,  his  wife  being  thus  unable  to 
work,  what  could  an  old  soldier  like  him  do  for  their 
subsistence  ?" 

"You  are  right.  Dagobert  can  do  nothing  but  love 
us,  and  watch  over  us  like  his  own  children." 

"Thus,  then,  don't  you  perceive  that  M.  Agricola 
must  support  his  father  as  well  as  his  mother  ?  For 
Gabriel  is  a  poor  priest,  who,  possessing  nothing,  has  no 
means  of  aiding  the  family  which  brought  him  up.  The 
care  and  burthen  of  the  whole  family  then  falls  on  M. 
Agricola." 

"  To  be  sure  it  does !  But  then,  you  know,  it  is  his 
duty  to  work  for  and  toil  hard  to  prevent  his  father 
and  mother  from  wanting ;  and  he  does  it  with 
pleasure." 

"  Yes,  sister  ;  but  it  is  not  his  duty  also  to  support  us ; 
he  owes  us  no  obligation." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Blanche  ?  " 

"  He  will,  therefore,  have  us  to  work  for  in  addition ; 
for  you  know  we  have  no  means  in  the  world  of  provid- 
ing for  ourselves." 

241 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  I  never  thought  of  that !  You  are  quite  right,  —  so 
he  will !    How  sorry  I  am  !  " 

"  Look  here,  sister.  It  is  no  use  for  Dagobert  to  tell 
us  about  our  father  being  a  duke  and  marshal  of  France  ; 
it  is  also  folly  to  expect  great  things  from  this  medal,  so 
long  as  our  father  is  away  and  our  hopes  are  not  realised. 
We  are  still  nothing  but  two  poor  girls,  obliged  to  be  a 
burthen  on  this  worthy  family,  to  whom  we  are  already 
so  much  indebted,  and  who  are  themselves  so  much  in 
want —  " 

"  Why  do  you  pause,  dear  sister  ? " 

"  What  I  am  going  to  say  would  make  other  per- 
sons laugh,  but  you  will  understand  me.  Yesterday, 
Dagobert's  wife  said,  sadly,  as  she  watched  Killjoy 
eating,  4  Poor  dog,  you  eat  as  much  as  a  grown-up 
person ; '  and  the  tone  in  which  she  spoke  brought 
the  tears  in  my  eyes,  because  it  showed  how  poor 
they  were ;  and  yet  we  have  come  to  increase  their 
poverty." 

And  the  sisters  looked  tenderly  and  sorrowfully  on 
each  other's  faces,  while  Killjoy  affected  not  to  under- 
stand the  recent  allusion  to  his  exceeding  appetite. 

"  Now  I  understand,"  said  Rose,  after  a  short  silence. 
"  You  mean,  dear  sister,  that  we  ought  not  to  be  a  load 
upon  any  one's  hands.  Neither  will  we  ;  we  are  young, 
and  I  have  good  courage.  Let  us,  while  awaiting  the 
events  which  are  to  decide  our  fate,  fancy  ourselves 
merely  the  daughters  of  a  mere  artisan ;  and  is  not  our 
grandfather  a  working  person  at  this  very  moment  ?  Let 
us  then  obtain  some  work,  and  so  earn  our  own  liveli- 
hood. Oh,  how  happy  and  proud  ought  we  to  be  to 
work  for  our  own  support !  " 

"  Dearest  sister,"  said  Blanche,  embracing  Rose, 
"  how  delighted  we  shall  be,  shall  we  not  ?  Ah,  you 
have  anticipated  my  wishes !  Kiss  me,  dear,  dear 
sister,  —  but  I  knew  of  your  intention  before." 

"  How  could  you  possibly  know  of  it  ?  " 

242 


PRESENTIMENTS. 


"  Ah,  your  project  was  mine  also !  Yes,  when  I 
heard  poor  Madame  Francoise  lament  so  piteously  the 
failure  of  her  sight,  I  first  looked  at  your  large  clear 
eyes,  and  in  them,  dear  sister,  I  read  your  thoughts; 
then  I  considered  my  own  eyes,  and  I  said  to  myself, 
6  Well,  if  this  poor  wife  of  our  good  Dagobert  has  lost 
her  eyesight,  Miles.  Rose  and  Blanche  Simon  can  see 
perfectly  well,  and  may  be  able  to  make  up  for  it,'  " 
added  Blanche,  smiling. 

"And  after  all,"  replied  Rose,  smiling  in  her  turn, 
"  these  same  Miles.  Simon  are  not  so  helpless  and  awk- 
ward but  that  they  can  stitch  together  coarse  bags  of 
gray  cloth,  which  may  perhaps  rub  the  skin  off  our 
fingers  a  little  at  starting;  but  that  is  nothing." 

"  You  see  we  both  had  the  same  thoughts,  as  usual, 
only  I  wanted  to  surprise  you,  and  to  wait  till  we  were 
alone  to  tell  you  my  idea." 

"  Yes ;  but  one  thing  vexes  me." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"  In  the  first  place,  Dagobert  and  his  wife  will  be  sure 
to  say  to  us,  <  Oh,  young  ladies,  that  is  not  the  sort  of 
work  for  you.  Oh,  no,  you,  the  daughters  of  a  marshal 
of  France,  to  spoil  your  fingers  with  such  coarse  stuff  as 
that ! '  And,  then  if  we  insist,  they  will  pretend  they 
have  nothing  to  do;  and  that  if  we  are  resolved  to 
employ  ourselves,  we  must  go  and  seek  for  work ;  and 
then,  I  fear,  the  Miles.  Simon  would  find  themselves 
somewhat  embarrassed  to  know  where  or  to  whom  to  go 
to  ask  for  employment." 

"  The  truth  is,  that  when  once  Dagobert  takes  a  thing 
into  his  head  —  " 

"  Oh,  but  we  can  always  coax  him  into  anything  we 
desire." 

"  Yes,  in  some  things,  certainly ;  but  in  others  it  is 
impossible  to  persuade  him.  Only  see  how  determined 
he  was  all  through  the  journey,  whenever  we  tried  to 
prevent  his  taking  so  much  trouble  for  us." 

243 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Oh,  dear  sister,"  exclaimed  Rose,  "  I  have  just 
thought  of  something,  —  such  an  excellent  idea  !  " 

"  Tell  me  quickly !  What  is  it  ?  You  know  that 
young  workwoman  they  call  La  Mayeux,  who  seems 
so  obliging  and  industrious  ? " 

"  Yes ;  and  so  timid  and  fearful  of  giving  offence. 
She  seems  as  though  she  was  always  fearful  of  incon- 
veniencing you,  even  if  she  looked  at  you.  I  watched 
her  yesterday,  without  her  being  aware  I  saw  her,  while 
she  earnestly  regarded  you  with  an  air  so  kind,  so  gentle, 
and  so  full  of  pleasure  at  being  permitted  to  behold  you, 
that  I  felt  myself  moved  even  to  tears." 

"  Well,  we  must  ask  La  Mayeux  how  she  manages 
to  find  occupation,  for  she  certainly  supports  herself  by 
her  own  hands." 

"You  are  right;  she  will  tell  us,  no  doubt,  where 
work  can  be  had ;  and  when  we  know  that,  Dagobert 
may  scold  as  much  as  he  likes  and  try  to  persuade  us 
not  —  we  shall  be  as  obstinate  as  himself." 

"  To  be  sure  we  will !  Let  us  show  our  resolution, 
and  prove  to  him  in  his  own  words  that  we  have  a 
soldier's  blood  in  our  veins." 

"'You  assert  that  we  shall  one  day  be  rich,  good 
Dagobert,'  we  will  say  to  him.  'Well,  so  much  the 
better ;  we  shall  then  look  back  with  increased  pleasure 
on  what  we  are  now  about  to  do.'  " 

"  Then  now  it  is  agreed  —  is  it  not,  Rose  ?  —  that 
the  first  time  we  are  alone  with  La  Mayeux  we  shall  tell 
her  all  our  plans,  and  ask  her  advice  and  assistance.  She 
looks  so  kind  and  good,  I  feel  sure  she  will  not  refuse 
us." 

"  And  when  our  dear  father  returns,  I  feel  assured  he 
will  approve  of  our  courage." 

"And  applaud  us  for  having  depended  on  our  own 
exertions  alone,  just  as  if  we  had  no  friend  in  the 
world." 

As  Blanche  spoke  these  words,  Rose  started,  while  an 

244 


PRESENTIMENTS. 


expression  of  sadness,  almost  amounting  to  alarm,  passed 
over  her  sweet  face,  as  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Heavens,  sister  !  What  an  idea  !  Don't  say  that 
again,  —  you  terrify  me  !  " 

"  And  you,  too,  dear  Rose,  you  frighten  me ;  what  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"Just  as  you  said  that  our  father  would  be  pleased 
with  us  for  acting  as  though  we  were  alone  in  the  world, 
a  frightful  idea  entered  my  mind,  —  I  know  not  why ; 
but  feel  —  feel  how  my  heart  beats,  as  though  some 
terrible  misfortune  were  about  to  happen  to  us." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  your  poor  little  heart  beats  as  though 
it  would  break ;  but  what  misfortune  were  you  thinking 
of  that  could  befall  us  ?  Oh,  dear  Rose,  you  know  not 
how  you  alarm  me  !  " 

"  When  we  were  prisoners,  at  least  we  were  not  sep- 
arated ;  and,  besides,  our  prison  was  a  safe  asylum." 

"  A  sad  one,  dear  sister,  though  shared  by  you." 

"  B&t  suppose  that  when  we  came  here  any  acci- 
dent or  misfortune  had  separated  us  from  Dagobert; 
imagine  our  being  alone,  without  friends,  in  this  great 
city!" 

"  Oh,  sister,  do  not  talk  of  that !  You  are  right,  —  it 
is  a  frightful  idea.  Gracious  heavens !  What  would 
become  of  us  ? " 

At  these  words  the  orphans  remained  for  a  moment 
overwhelmed  with  the  contemplation  of  so  fearful  a 
calamity,  while  their  lovely  countenances,  until  ani- 
mated by  the  kindling  of  youthful  hope,  lost  their  rich 
bloom,  and  were  overcast  with  sadness. 

After  a  silence  of  several  minutes  Rose  raised  her 
head,  —  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  know  not  how  it  is,"  said  she,  at  length,  in  a 
trembling  voice ;  "  I  cannot  account  for  this  thought 
having  so  suddenly  darted  across  my  brain,  but  my 
heart  seems  to  tell  me  such  a  misfortune  will  one  day 
overtake  us." 

245 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


« I  feel  equally  terrified  as  yourself.  Alas  !  What 
should  we  do  if  we  were  lost  in  this  immense  city?" 

"Come,  dear  Blanche,  don't  let  us  encourage  these 
thoughts.  Are  we  not  safe  here  with  our  faithful 
Dagobert  and  his  worthy  family  ?  " 

"  I  almost  fancy,  dear  sister,"  replied  Rose,  with  a 
pensive  air,  "  that  it  is  probably  for  our  good  these  ideas 
have  entered  our  minds." 

"  How  can  that  be  ?  " 

"Because  now  we  shall  set  a  higher  value  on  this 
humble  dwelling,  since  it  serves  to  shelter  us  from  all 
such  frightful  apprehensions ;  and  where  besides,  thanks 
to  our  own  exertions,  we  shall  not  be  a  burthen  to  any 
one.  What  more  can  we  desire  until  the  arrival  of  our 
father  ? " 

"  No,  we  shall  not  want  for  anything,  certainly ;  but 
wherefore  has  the  cruel  fear  stolen  into  our  minds,  and 
why  are  we  so  much  oppressed  by  the  mere  dread  of  such 
an  evil  as  it  threatens  ?  " 

"Why,  indeed?  After  all,  are  we  not  here  in  the 
midst  of  friends  who  love  us  ?  How  is  it  for  a  moment 
to  be  supposed  that  we  should  ever  be  left  all  alone  in 
Paris  ?  It  is  quite  impossible  such  a  misfortune  should 
ever  befall  us,  don't  you  think  so,  sister  ? " 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Rose,  shuddering;  "nothing,  how- 
ever unlikely,  is  impossible.  Suppose  the  evening  that 
we  reached  that  village  in  Germany  where  poor  Jovial 
was  killed,  any  one  had  said  to  us,  6  This  time  to-morrow 
you  will  be  in  a  prison,'  we  should  have  replied,  <  Impos- 
sible ! '  As  we  now  say,  was  not  Dagobert  also  there  to 
protect  and  watch  over  us  ?  What  had  we  then  to  fear 
more  than  now  ?  And  yet  remember,  dear  sister,  that 
by  the  day  following  we  were  in  a  prison  at  Leipsic." 
^  "  Oh,  cease  to  remind  me  of  such  fearful  things,  dear 
sister,  I  implore ;  the  very  recollection  frightens  me." 

And  by  a  sort  of  sympathetic  movement  the  orphans 
grasped  each  other  by  the  hand,  and,  pressing  closely 

246 


PRESENTIMENTS. 


together,  looked  around  them  with  involuntary  terror; 
and  the  emotion  they  experienced  was  indeed  profound, 
strange,  and  inexplicable,  yet  vaguely  threatening,  like 
those  evil  presentiments  which  terrify,  even  in  spite  of 
all  our  reason  can  advance,  —  similar  to  those  fatal 
forebodings  which  frequently  illumine  with  a  lurid  gleam 
the  dark  abyss  of  the  future. 

Wild,  incomprehensible  predictions,  frequently  for- 
gotten as  soon  as  heard,  sometimes,  when  in  after  life 
their  full  accomplishment  recalls  them  to  our  mind, 
make  us  shudder  while  we  wonder  at  their  fearful 
accuracy. 

The  daughters  of  General  Simon  were  still  plunged 
in  the  mournful  reverie  occasioned  by  the  thoughts  so 
singularly  awakened  within  their  minds,  when  the  wife 
of  Dagobert  returned  from  her  unsuccessful  errand  to 
her  son's  chamber,  her  features  expressive  of  the  pro- 
foundest  grief  and  wretchedness. 


247 

\ 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  LETTER. 

When  Franchise  returned  to  the  chamber  her  counte- 
nance wore  an  appearance  of  such  intense  suffering  that 
Rose  could  not  forbear  exclaiming : 

"  Dear  madame,  what  has  happened  to  you  ? " 

"  Alas !  my  dear  young  ladies,  I  can  no  longer  conceal 
my  grief,"  and  here  Franchise's  tears  impeded  her  voice. 
"  I  expected  my  son  home  last  night  as  usual ;  he  never 
returned.  I  did  not  wish  you  to  see  how  much  I  was 
distressed  about  it,  and  I  kept  counting  each  minute, 
fully  believing  I  should  see  him  enter,  for  never  has  he 
gone  to  his  bed  without  first  embracing  me  and  wishing 
me  good-night.  Great  part  of  the  night  I  sat  by  the 
door  listening  for  his  step  on  the  stairs,  but  I  heard 
nothing.  About  three  o'clock  this  morning  I  threw 
myself  for  a  short  time  on  a  mattress  beside  you.  I 
have  just  been  to  see  whether  (though,  indeed,  I  scarcely 
ventured  to  hope  it)  my  son  had  not  returned,  and, 
fearful  of  disturbing  me,  retired  to  his  room." 

"  Well,  madame  !  " 

"  He  is  not  there,"  said  the  poor  mother,  wiping  her 
eyes. 

Rose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other  with  emotion, 
occupied  by  the  same  ideas,  —  should  Agricola  not  re- 
turn, how  would  this  family  be  maintained  ?  And  would 
not  their  presence  be  an  additional  burthen  under  so 
trying  a  circumstance  ? 

"  Perhaps,  madame,"  said  Blanche,  "  M.  Agricola  was 

248 


THE  LETTER. 


detained  too  late  over  his  work  to  be  able  to  return  in 
the  evening  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  He  knew  too  well  the  uneasiness  his 
absence  would  occasion  me.  He  would  have  come  home, 
even  had  it  been  the  middle  of  the  night.  Alas !  some 
accident  must  have  befallen  him,  —  perhaps  at  the  forge, 
—  he  is  so  energetic  and  courageous  at  his  work.  Oh, 
my  son!  My  dear  son!  And  as  though  I  were  not 
wretched  enough  on  his  account,  I  have  the  additional 
misery  of  being  also  uneasy  for  the  safety  of  the  poor 
young  sempstress  who  lives  up-stairs." 

"  What  of  her,  madame  ?  " 

"  When  I  left  my  son's  apartment  I  thought  I  would 
go  and  tell  my  trouble  to  her,  for  she  is  the  same  to  me 
as  a  daughter.  She  was  absent  also.  It  was  scarcely 
light  in  the  small  chamber  she  occupied,  but  I  could 
distinguish  that  the  bed  had  not  been  slept  in ;  it  was 
just  as  I  saw  it  yesterday.  Where  can  she  have  gone  at 
this  early  hour,  —  she  who  never  goes  out  ? " 

Again  the  looks  of  Rose  and  Blanche  consulted  each 
other  what  was  to  be  done  in  this  emergency,  which 
threatened  so  completely  to  overturn  the  hopes  they 
had  formed  of  accomplishing  their  designs  through  the 
medium  of  La  Mayeux.  Happily  their  disquietude,  as 
well  as  that  of  Francoise,  was  quickly  dispelled  by 
hearing  first  two  gentle  taps  at  the  door,  and  then  the 
voice  of  La  Mayeux  inquiring,  "  May  I  come  in,  Madame 
Francoise?"  By  a  simultaneous  impulse  the  sisters 
flew  to  the  door,  and  opened  it  for  the  young  girl. 

_  The  sleet  and  snow  had  fallen  incessantly  during  the 
night,  and  the  old  cotton  gown  of  the  poor  sempstress, 
her  little  shawl,  and  black  net  cap,  which,  displaying  the 
thick  braids  of  her  chestnut  hair,  surrounded  her  pale 
and  interesting  countenance,  were  wet  through.  The 
intense  cold  had  rendered  her  thin,  white  hands  livid  as 
those  of  a  corpse.  In  the  bright  gleam  of  her  usually 
timid  and  downcast  eyes  might  alone  be  detected  the 

249 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


fire  and  energy  which  this  ordinarily  weak  and  shrinking 
creature  had  found  to  sustain  her  during  circumstances 
so  grave  and  important  as  the  present. 

"  My  dear  Mayeux ! "  said  Franchise,  "  where  have 
you  been  ?  J ust  now,  when  I  went  to  look  in  my 
son's  room  whether  or  not  he  had  returned,  I  opened 
your  door,  and  was  thunderstruck  at  perceiving  you  had 
gone  out.  Where  could  you  have  to  go  so  early  as 
this?" 

"  I  bring  you  news  of  Agricola !  " 

"  Of  my  son ! "  exclaimed  Framboise,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot.  "  What  has  happened  to  him  ?  Have  you 
seen  him  ?    Spoken  to  him  ?    Where  is  he  ?  " 

La  Mayeux,  perceiving  how  deadly  pale  Franchise 
looked,  hastened  to  reassure  her : 

"  Do  not  alarm  yourself  so  much,  —  he  is  quite  well, 
and  in  no  danger  !  " 

"  Blessed  be  thou,  my  God  !  "  cried  Frangoise,  throw- 
ing herself  upon  her  knees  on  the  floor,  and  piously 
crossing  herself.  "  Blessed  be  thy  name  for  this  thy 
mercy  to  an  unworthy  sinner !  The  day  before  yester- 
day you  restored  my  husband  to  me ;  and  now,  after  so 
cruel  an  agony  of  suspense,  you  deign  to  remove  my 
fears  for  the  safety  of  my  beloved  son ! " 

During  the  short  silence  caused  by  this  devotional 
burst  on  the  part  of  Frangoise,  the  orphans  approached 
La  Mayeux,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone,  with  an  expression 
of  the  most  touching  interest : 

"  How  wet  your  clothes  are !  You  must  be  very  cold  ! 
Pray  take  care  !    Only  think  if  you  were  to  be  ill !  " 

"  We  did  not  like  to  speak  to  Madame  Frangoise  about 
lighting  the  fire ;  but  now  we  will  remind  her  of  it." 

Equally  surprised  as  penetrated  with  the  kindness 
exhibited  towards  her  by  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon,  La  Mayeux  (the  most  sensitive  creature  living 
of  the  smallest  attention  or  care  bestowed  upon  her) 
replied,  with  a  look  of  the  deepest  gratitude  : 

250 


THE  LETTER. 


"  Many  thanks,  young  ladies,  for  your  kind  consider- 
ation !  But  pray  do  not  be  uneasy  on  my  account.  I 
am  used  to  the  cold  ;  and,  besides,  I  am  too  uneasy  in 
my  thoughts  even  to  feel  it." 

"  And  now,  tell  me  of  my  son !  "  cried  Franchise, 
rising,  after  having  remained  some  minutes  in  her  kneel- 
ing position.  "  Why  did  he  not  return  home  all 
night  ?  And  how  came  you,  my  good  Mayeux,  to  know 
where  to  find  him  ?  Is  he  coming  soon  ?  What  detains 
him  ? " 

"  I  assure  you,  Madame  Francoise,  Agricola  is  quite 
well ;  but,  I  must  also  tell  you,  it  will  be  some  time  —  " 
"  Speak,  for  Heaven's  sake  ! " 

"  Nay,  dear  Madame  Franchise,  summon  your  courage 
while  I  explain  —  " 

"  God  of  Heaven  !  What  can  you  mean  ?  My  blood 
seems  to  freeze  within  my  veins!  Tell  me,  I  implore 
you,  what  has  happened!  What  prevents  his  coming 
to  me?" 

"  Alas,  madame,  he  is  arrested  !  " 

"  Arrested !  "  exclaimed  Rose  and  Blanche,  with  terror. 

"  God's  will  be  done  !  "  said  Franchise,  meekly.  "  But 
this  is  a  sore  and  a  heavy  misfortune !  Arrested  !  He, 
so  good,  so  honest,  and  upright!  Why  has  he  been 
arrested  ?    Surely  there  must  be  some  mistake  !  " 

"  The  day  before  yesterday,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  "  I 
received  an  anonymous  letter,  telling  me  that  Agricola 
was  in  hourly  danger  of  being  arrested,  in  consequence 
of  his  having  written  the  verses  called  4  The  Workman's 
Song.'  We  agreed  together  that  the  best  thing  he  could 
do  would  be  to  go  to  the  house  of  that  rich  young  lady 
in  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  who  promised  to  serve  him  in 
any  way  he  wished.  So  Agricola  went  to  beg  of  her  to 
be  a  sort  of  security  for  him,  to  prevent  his  being  taken 
to  prison  ;  and  that  was  his  reason  for  going  out  so  early 
yesterday  morning." 

"  Why  did  neither  you  nor  Agricola  mention  this  to 

251 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

me  before  ?  Why  was  I  kept  in  ignorance  of  all  that 
concerned  him  ? " 

"  That  you  might  be  spared  the  uneasiness  it  would 
have  caused  you,  Madame  Francoise  ;  for,  relying  on  the 
generous  interference  of  the  good  young  lady,  I  expected 
Agricola  back  every  instant ;  and  when  he  did  not  re- 
turn yesterday  evening,  I  thought  perhaps  the  forms 
requisite  for  putting  in  the  security  might  have  detained 
him  so  long.  But  hour  after  hour  passed  away,  and 
still  he  did  not  appear ;  and  in  that  manner  I  watched 
and  waited  through  the  night." 

"  My  poor  Mayeux,  you  have  not  been  in  bed  all 
night !  " 

"I  was  much  too  uneasy;  so,  unable  to  bear  this 
state  of  fearful  suspense  any  longer,  directly  there  was 
a  glimmer  of  light  in  the  sky  I  went  out.  I  recollected 
the  address  of  the  young  lady  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone, 
and  thither  I  hastened  as  fast  as  I  could  run.,, 

"  Quite  right— quite  right !  "  said  Francoise,  anxiously. 
"  You  could  not  have  done  better ;  and  from  what  my 
son  told  us,  the  young  lady  seems  to  have  been  most 
kindly  and  generously  disposed." 

La  Mayeux  shook  her  head  mournfully  ;  a  tear  glit- 
tered in  her  eye,  as  she  continued : 

"  When  I  reached  the  Rue  de  Babylone  it  was  still 
dark,  so  I  had  to  wait  till  it  was  day." 

"  Poor  child !  "  said  Francoise,  profoundly  touched. 
"  You,  so  timid  and  fearful,  to  go  all  that  way,  and  in 
such  dreadful  weather,  too !  Ah,  you  are  more  than  a 
daughter  to  me ! " 

"Is  not  Agricola  more  than  a  brother  to  me?"  said 
La  Mayeux,  slightly  blushing.    Then  she  resumed : 

"  When  it  was  quite  broad  daylight,  I  ventured  to  ring 
the  bell  of  the  little  pavilion.  A  charming  young  girl, 
but  whose  countenance  looked  pale  and  sorrowful,  came' 
to  open  the  door.  <  Mademoiselle/  said  I,  to  interest  her 
in  my  favour  (for  I  was  afraid,  seeing  me  so  poorly 

252 


THE  LETTER. 


dressed,  she  would  send  me  away  as  a  beggar),  6  Made- 
moiselle, I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  come  from  a  poor 
mother,  who  is  in  the  greatest  distress  about  her  son.' 
Then,  seeing  that  far  from  being  angry  the  young  girl 
listened  kindly  to  what  I  said,  I  went  on  to  ask  whether, 
on  the  previous  day,  a  young  artisan  had  not  been  there 
to  entreat  of  her  mistress  to  do  him  a  great  favour  ? 

"  '  Alas !  yes,'  replied  the  female  ;  4  and  my  mistress 
was  going  to  do  what  he  asked  her,  when,  finding  he 
was  being  sought  after  for  the  purpose  of  being  arrested, 
she  concealed  him  in  the  house.  Unfortunately  his  re- 
treat was  discovered,  and  yesterday  afternoon,  about  four 
o'clock,  he  was  arrested  and  conducted  to  prison.' " 

Although  the  orphans  took  no  part  in  this  conversa- 
tion, it  was  easy  to  perceive,  by  their  sorrowful  counte- 
nances and  uneasy  looks,  how  deeply  they  sympathised 
with  the  wife  of  Dagobert. 

"  But  the  young  lady  !  "  cried  Francoise.  "  You  should 
have  endeavoured,  my  good  Mayeux,  to  see  her  herself,, 
and  beseech  her  not  to  abandon  my  poor  son.  She  is 
so  rich,  and  no  doubt  equally  powerful,  her  interference 
may  yet  save  us  from  so  heavy  a  misfortune." 

"  Ah,  no !  "  replied  La  Mayeux,  with  a  bitter  grief. 
"We  must  renounce  all  hope  of  that." 

"  And  why  ? "  said  Francoise.  "  Since  this  young  lady 
is  so  good,  when  she  knows  that  my  son  is  the  sole 
support  of  his  family,  she  will  take  pity  on  us.  She  will 
see  why  being  sent  to  prison  is  more  dreadful  for  him 
than  many  others,  because  it  will  reduce  us  all  to  want 
and  misery." 

"  This  young  lady,"  resumed  La  Mayeux,  "  as  I  under- 
stood from  the  young  girl,  who  wept  bitterly  as  she  told 
me,  this  poor  lady  was  taken  yesterday  evening  to  a 
private  madhouse,  having  gone  utterly  out  of  her 
senses." 

"How  dreadful  for  her!  — as  well  as  for  us,  alas' 
also.    Now  we  have  no  hope  to  cling  to,  nothing  to  look 

253 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

forward  to.  What  will  become  of  us  without  my  son  ? 
My  God  !    My  God  !  " 

So  saying,  the  heartbroken  mother  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands,  while  bitter  sobs  burst  from  her  lips. 

While  Francoise  thus  yielded  to  her  overwhelming 
grief,  a  profound  silence  reigned  among  the  three  specta- 
tors of  the  scene. 

Roseand  Blanche  exchanged  looks  of  deep  distress, 
expressive  of  their  unfeigned  commiseration  and  sorrow, 
for  they  well  understood  how  much  they  must  add  to  the 
terrible  embarrassment  of  the  family ;  while  La  Mayeux, 
worn  out  with  fatigue,  torn  by  so  many  painful  emotions' 
and  shivering  from  her  wet,  chill  garments,  seated  herself 
dejectedly  on  the  chair,  reflecting  on  the  desperate  con- 
dition of  the  family. 

And  most  frightful,  indeed,  was  the  situation  in  which 
it  was  now  placed. 

During  the  times  of  political  troubles  or  agitations, 
caused  in  the  labouring  classes  by  a  compulsory  cessation 
from  work,  or  by  the  shameful  reduction  of  their  pay, 
which  is  imposed  upon  them,  without  redress,  by  the 
powerful  coalition  of  capitalists,  —  very  often,  at  such 
periods,  whole  families  of  artisans  are,  thanks  to  the  pre- 
ventive detention,  placed  in  a  position  as  deplorable  as 
that  of  Dagobert's  by  the  apprehension  of  Agricola  —  an 
arrest  owing,  moreover,  as  we  shall  find  hereafter,  to  the 
intrigues  of  Rodin  and  his  myrmidons. 

Apropos  of  preventive  detention,  which  sometimes 
occurs  to  honest,  hardworking  artificers,  almost  always 
driven  to  the  sad  extremity  of  coalitions  by  the  want  of 
organisation  in  their  own  trades,  and  the  lowness  of  their 
pay,  it  is,  in  our  opinion,  painful  to  see  the  law,  which 
ought  to  be  equal  to  all,  refuse  to  these  what  it  grants 
to  those,  because  those  can  dispose  of  a  certain  sum  of 
money. 

In  many  cases  the  rich  man,  by  means  of  caution  (de- 
posit of  a  certain  sum),  can  escape  the  annoyance  and 

254 


THE  LETTER. 


distress  of  preventive  imprisonment.  He  lays  down  a 
certain  sum,  gives  his  word  to  appear  on  a  stated  day, 
and  returns  instantly  to  his  pleasures,  his  occupations,  or 
the  bosom  of  his  family. 

Nothing  can  be  better  ;  every  person  accused  is  deemed 
innocent,  and  this  maxim  cannot  be  too  deeply  or  gener- 
ally impressed. 

So  much  the  better  for  the  rich,  since  he  can  avail 
himself  of  the  benefit  of  the  law. 

But  the  poor  man  ? 

Not  only  has  he  no  caution  to  lay  down,  for  he  has  no 
capital  but  his  daily  labour,  but  it  is  for  him  particularly, 
poor  as  he  is,  that  the  rigours  of  a  preventive  incarcera- 
tion are  powerful  and  terrible. 

For  the  rich  man  the  prison  is  the  lack  of  ease  and 
comfort  —  it  is  ennui ;  the  pain  of  being  separated  from 
his  family  or  friends,  and  that  deserves  commiseration, 
for  all  that  is  painful  is  pitiable  ;  and  the  tears  of  the 
rich  man  separated  from  his  children  are  as  bitter  as 
those  of  the  poor  man  similarly  removed. 

But  the  absence  of  the  rich  man  does  not  condemn  his 
family  to  fasting  and  cold,  nor  to  the  incurable  maladies 
caused  by  exhaustion  and  misery. 

On  the  contrary,  for  the  artisan,  prison  is  actual  dis- 
tress, a  perfect  deprivation,  ending  sometimes  in  the  death 
of  his  family. 

Possessing  nothing  he  is  unable  to  furnish  any  caution, 
and  is  imprisoned. 

What,  then,  if  he  have,  as  generally  happens,  an  infirm 
father  or  mother,  a  sick  wife,  or  infants  in  the  cradle  ? 
What  will  become  of  this  unfortunate  family  ?  It  can 
hardly  live  from  day  to  day  on  this  man's  earnings,  which 
are  almost  always  insufficient ;  and  then,  in  one  instant, 
this  sole  support  is  cut  off  for  three  or  four  months. 
What  will  become  of  this  family?  To  what  can  they 
have  recourse  ?  What  will  become  of  the  infirm  old 
man,  the  sickly  woman,  the  little  children  unable  to 

255 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

make  the  slightest  exertion  to  gain  their  daily  bread  ? 
If  by  chance  they  have  a  little  linen  or  clothing  in  the 
house,  they  may  take  it  to  the  Mont  de  Pidte,  and  with 

whatlhe^T        maJ'  PerhapS?  GXiSt  f°r  a  Week'  But 

An d  suppose,  moreover,  that  the  winter  adds  its  severi- 
ties to  this  trying  and  inevitable  misery ! 

Then  the  imprisoned  artisan  will  see  in  his  "mind's 
eye  during  long  and  sleepless  nights,  those  most  dear 
to  him,  haggard,  withering,  and  exhausted  for  want 
sleeping  a  most  naked  on  a  sordid  couch,  and  trying  bv 
drawing  close  to  each  other,  to  warm  their  frozen  limbs. 

1  lien,  if  the  workman  is  acquitted,  he  is  ruined,  and 
finds  nothing  but  distress  when,  at  last,  he  reaches  his 
miserable  home. 

And  then,  too,  after  so  long  a  cessation  from  labour 
the  connections  which  brought  him  work  are  broken  off 
How  many  days  lost  in  seeking  to  find  work  again !  For 
a  day  without  labour  is  a  day  without  bread 

Let  us  repeat,  that  if  the  law  did  not  offer,  under  cer- 
tain circumstances,  to  those  who  are  rich  the  privilege  of 
caution,  we  might  groan  over  inevitable  and  severe  mis- 
iortunes ;  but  since  the  law  consents  to  put  at  liberty, 
provisionally,  those  who  possess  a  certain  sum  of  money 
why  does  it  deprive  of  this  advantage  those  to  whom 
particularly  liberty  is  indispensable,  since  liberty  is  to 
them  the  very  life  and  vitality  of  their  family  ? 

In  this  deplorable  state  of  things  is  there  any  remedy  ? 
We  think  so.  J 

The  minimum  of  the  caution  required  by  the  law  is 
five  hundred  francs.  But  five  hundred  francs  is  about 
the  average  amount  of  six  months'  labour  of  an  industri- 
ous workman. 

If  he  have  a  wife  and  two  children  (which  is  also 
about  the  average  amount  of  his  family),  it  is  evident 
tnat  it  is  absolutely  impossible  that  he  can  have  saved 
such  a  sum. 

256 


THE  LETTER. 


Therefore  to  require  from  him  five  hundred  francs,  in 
order  that  he  may  still  be  capable  of  maintaining  his 
family,  is  virtually  placing  him  beyond  the  pale  of  the 
benefit  of  the  law ;  he  who,  more  than  anybody,  ought 
to  have  the  right  to  enjoy  it  in  consideration  of  the 
disastrous  results  which  his  preventive  imprisonment 
brings  upon  his  family. 

Would  it  not  be  equitable,  humane,  and  noble,  and 
leave  a  salutary  example,  if  we  consented,  in  all  cases  in 
which  the  caution  is  admitted,  and  when  the  honesty  of 
the  accused  had  been  clearly  attested,  to  accept  the  moral 
guarantees  of  those  whose  poverty  did  not  allow  them  to 
deposit  tangible  guarantees,  and  who  have  no  other  capi- 
tal but  that  of  their  labour  and  probity,  —  to  accept  their 
word,  as  honest  men,  to  present  themselves  at  the  day 
appointed  for  their  sentence  ? 

Would  it  not  be  moral  and  great,  especially  in  these 
our  days,  to  increase  thus  the  value  of  a  sworn  promise, 
and  thus  to  elevate  a  man  in  his  own  eyes,  by  allowing 
his  oath  to  be  considered  as  sufficient  guarantee  ? 

If  we  deny  the  possibility,  or  exclaim  against  the  Uto- 
pianism  of  this  suggestion,  do  we  not  depreciate  the  dignity 
of  mankind  ?  We  will  ask  if  many  of  the  prisoners  of  war 
on  parole  have  ever  been  known  to  perjure  themselves, 
and  whether  or  not  those  soldiers  and  officers  were  not 
ordinarily  those  who  had  sprung  from  the  people  ? 

Without  at  all  exaggerating  the  virtue  of  an  oath 
amongst  the  working,  honest,  and  poorer  classes,  we 
are  certain  that  the  undertaking  given  by  the  accused 
to  appear  duly  on  the  day  appointed  would  be  always 
fulfilled,  not  only  with  fidelity  and  punctuality,  but  also 
with  deep  gratitude,  inasmuch  as  his  family  had  not 
suffered  by  his  absence,  thanks  to  the  indulgence  of 
the  law. 

It  is,  besides,  a  fact  of  which  France  may  be  justly 
proud,  that  its  magistracy,  as  miserably  paid  as  its 
soldiery,  is  learned,  upright,  humane,  and  independent, 

257 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


with  a  full  knowledge  of  its  useful  and  imposing 
functions ;  and,  more  than  any  other  body,  it  can  and 
does  know  how  to  appreciate  with  charity  the  ills 
and  vast  sufferings  of  the  labouring  classes  of  society, 
with  whom  she  so  often  comes  in  contact.1 

Too  much  license  cannot,  then,  be  accorded  to  the 
magistrates  in  cases  in  which  the  moral  caution  (the  only 
one  which  can  be  offered  by  a  labouring  man)  can  be 
accepted. 

In  fine,  if  those  who  make  the  laws  and  those  who 
govern  us  had  so  prejudiced  an  opinion  against  the 
people  as  to  reject  disdainfully  the  idea  we  throw  out, 
could  they  not  at  least  require  that  the  minimum  of  the 
caution  be  so  lowered  that  it  would  be  within  the  reach 
of  those  who  require  so  urgently  to  escape  from  the 
destructive  hardships  of  the  preventive  detention  ? 

Could  we  not  take,  as  an  extreme  limit,  the  average 
salary  of  a  workman  for  a  month  ?    Say,  eighty  francs. 

That  would  be  still  exorbitant ;  but  then,  by  the 
help  of  his  friends,  the  help  of  the  pawnbroker,  and 
some  advances,  perhaps  the  eighty  francs  might  be 
raised,  —  perhaps  not  always  ;  but  if  sometimes,  why, 
many  poor  families  might  be  snatched  from  frightful 
misery. 

This  said,  we  will  now  return  to  Dagobert's  family, 
who,  in  consequence  of  the  preventive  detention  of 
Agricola,  were  in  a  most  distressing  state. 

Reflection  served  but  to  increase  the  wretchedness  of 
Franchise ;  for,  reckoning  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon,  she  perceived  a  family  of  four  persons  abso- 
lutely destitute  of  all  means  of  support;  though,  it 
must  be  confessed,  the  tender  mother  thought  much 
less  of  herself  than  she  did  of  the  misery  her  son  would 

1  We  have  quoted  in  another  work,  and  one  read  always  with  as  much 
respect  as  deep  sympathy,  the  admirable  volume  of  M.  Prosper  Tarbe,  Pro- 
cureur  du  Roi.  "  Travail  et  Salaire  "  ("  Work  and  Pay  ")  is  one  of  the  most 
sound  and  elevated  works  that  a  deep  love  of  humanity  ever  inspired  to  a 
generous  heart,  a  lively  intelligence,  and  a  clear  and  practical  mind.—  E. 
Sue. 


258 


THE  LETTER. 


experience  at  the  recollection  of  her  destitute  and  helpless 
condition. 

At  this  moment  some  one  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  said  Francoise. 

"  'Tis  I,  Madame  Franchise,  —  Father  Lorrain." 

"  Pray  come  in,"  said  the  wife  of  Dagobert. 

The  dyer,  who  also  fulfilled  the  duties  of  porter, 
appeared  at  the  door  of  the  apartment ;  instead  of  ex- 
hibiting the  same  bright  green  hue  upon  his  hands  and 
arms,  he  this  day  displayed  a  magnificent  violet  colour. 

"  Madame  Franchise,"  said  Father  Lorrain,  "  here  is  a 
letter,  which  has  just  been  brought  by  the  person  who 
gives  the  holy  water  at  St.  Merry ;  he  says  he  brings  it 
from  the  Abbe  Dubois,  who  wished  it  to  be  carried  up- 
stairs to  you  directly,  for  that  it  was  on  very  particular 
business." 

"  A  letter  from  my  confessor  !  "  said  Franchise,  greatly 
astonished.  Then  taking  it,  she  added,  "  Thank  you, 
Father  Lorrain." 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Madame 
Franchise  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  I  thank  you,  Father  Lorrain." 

"  Servant,  ladies  all ! "  said  the  dyer,  as  he  backed  out 
of  the  chamber. 

"  Will  you  read  me  this  letter,  my  good  Mayeux  ?  "  ■ 
said  Franchise,  somewhat  uneasy  as  to  its  contents. 

"  Oh,  yes,  willingly,  madame ! "  returned  the  girl, 
reading  aloud,  as  follows : 

"  <  My  dear  Madame  Baudoin : — Although  I  am  usually 
in  the  habit  of  receiving  you  on  Saturdays  and  Tuesdays, 
yet,  as  I  shall  be  fully  engaged  both  to-morrow  and 
Saturday,  I  wish  you  to  come  to  me  directly  you  receive 
this,  —  unless,  indeed,  you  prefer  allowing  a  whole  week 
to  elapse  without  your  approaching  the  confessional.'  " 

"  A  week  !  "  exclaimed  the  wife  of  Dagobert.  "  Mother 
of  Jesus  !    No  !    Alas,  I  feel  too  strongly  in  my  present 

259 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

state  of  trouble  and  distress  the  necessity  for  an  imme- 
diate opportunity  of  unburthening  my  mind.,,  Then 
addressing  herself  to  the  orphans  she  said,  «  God  has 
heard  my  prayers  for  you,  my  dear  young  ladies,  since 
1  am  this  very  day  afforded  the  opportunity  of  consulting 
a  holy  and  worthy  man  respecting  the  fearful  dange? 
you  are  incurring  without  knowing  it.     Poor  dear 
children!    So  innocent,  and  yet  so  guilty;  although 
from  no  fault  of  yours.    Heaven  is  my  witness  my 
heart  bleeds  for  you,  even  as  it  does  for  my  own  son  " 
Rose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other  in  speechless 
amazement,  wholly  unable  to  comprehend  the  fears  with 
which  the  state  of  their  soul  inspired  the  wife  of  Dagobert 
Francoise  then  addressing  herself  to  the  young  needle- 
woman, said,  «  My  dear  Mayeux,  I  must  ask  you  to  do 
me  another  kindness.'' 

"  Anything,  Madame  Francoise ;  you  have  only  to  tell 
me  what  you  wish." 

"My  husband  took  Agricola's  week's  wages  to  defray 
his  journey  to  Chartres,  —  that  was  all  the  money  we 
had  m  the  house ;  and  I  am  quite  sure  my  poor  boy  had 
not  a  sou  in  his  possession.  Perhaps  he  may  want  many 
things  now  he  is  in  prison.  You  must  take  the  silver 
cup  the  fork  and  spoon,  the  two  best  pairs  of  sheets, 
with  the  new  shawl  Agricola  gave  me  on  my  birthday, 
and  go  with  them  to  the  pawnbroker's.  I  will  try  and 
find  out  what  prison  my  son  is  confined  in.  Then  I  will 
send  him  half  of  what  you  get  for  the  things,  and  the 
remainder  will  suffice  for  us  until  the  return  of  my  hus- 
band. But  when  he  does  come  back  what  shall  we  do  ? 
What  a  blow  for  him  !  And  still  further  aggravated  by 
our  being  reduced  to  absolute  want;  for  now  that  my 
son  is  in  prison,  and  my  eyesight  gone—  0  Lord, 
my  God ! "  exclaimed  the  unhappy  mother,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  impatient  and  bitter  sorrow,  "  why  afflict  me 
thus  ?  Thou  knowest  I  have  endeavoured  to  deserve  pity 
and  mercy,  if  not  for  myself,  at  least  for  those  most  dear 

260 


THE  LETTER. 


to  me."  Then  reproaching  herself  for  this  vehemence, 
she  added,  "  Pardon,  oh,  pardon  me  this  unworthy  doubt 
of  thy  mercy,  0  Almighty  Father  !  And  bend  my  will  to 
thy  will.  Humbly  do  I  accept  every  trial  thou  pleasest 
to  send,  entreating  only  that  I,  and  I  alone,  may  be 
deemed  worthy  to  bear  the  just  weight  of  thy  displeasure." 

"  Dear  Madame  Franchise  ! "  said  La  Mayeux,  "  take 
courage,  I  beg.  Agricola  is  innocent  —  he  cannot  be 
detained  in  prison  long." 

"  But,  now  I  reflect,"  resumed  Dagobert's  wife,  "  it 
would  be  better  for  me  to  take  the  things  to  the  pawn- 
broker's ;  it  is  not  right  to  make  you  lose  your  time,  my 
kind  Mayeux." 

"  I  will  make  up  for  it  at  night,  Madame  Frangoise. 
How  can  I  sleep  when  you  are  so  unhappy  ?  So  my  work 
will  amuse  me." 

"  But,  then,  it  will  cost  you  a  light." 

"  Never  mind,  Madame  Frangoise,  I  am  very  well  off 
for  money,"  said  the  poor  girl,  blushing  at  her  own 
falsehood. 

"  Give  me  one  kiss,  then,"  said  Dagobert's  wife  ;  "  you 
are  certainly  the  best  little  creature  in  the  world." 

So  saying,  Frangoise  hastily  quitted  the  room. 

Rose  and  Blanche,  left  alone  with  La  Mayeux,  at 
length  saw  that  morning  arrived  for  which  they  had  so  im- 
patiently waited  ;  while  Dagobert's  wife  soon  reached  the 
church  of  St.  Merry,  where  her  confessor  awaited  her. 

"  To  the  Editor, 

"  Sir  :  —  Will  you  allow  me  to  make  use  of  the  pages  of  the  Constitutionnel,1 
to  thank  those  correspondents  who  have  so  kindly  forwarded  to  me  state- 
ments and  attested  facts  relative  to  the  deplorable  abuses  practised  in 
certain  houses  for  the  Treatment  of  the  Insane? 

"  Other  persons,  with  benevolent  sympathy,  for  which  I  here  offer  my 
grateful  thanks,  have  entered  into  some  details  as  to  the  laws  and  regula- 
tions of  houses  for  the  insane,  and  principally  as  to  the  law  of  May  last. 

"  I  was  not  ignorant  of  the  new  arrangement,  whose  strictness  but  proves 
all  the  importance  of  the  question  I  have  ventured  to  raise ;  but  the  law,  such 
as  it  is,  appears  to  me  still  insufficient,  and,  as  I  have  already  said,  I  shall 
attempt  shortly  to  develop  certain  views  as  to  an  organisation  of  special  and 
consequently  complete  surveillance.   Allow  me,  sir,  etc. 

"  Paris,  September  12, 1844.  Eugene  Sue." 

1  The  French  newspaper  in  which  M.  Sue's  Wandering  Jew  appears.  —  Eng- 
lish Translator. 

261 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE  CONFESSIONAL. 

Nothing  could  be  more  dull  than  the  appearance  of 
the  parish  church  of  St.  Merry  on  this  lowering  and 
snowy  day.  For  a  moment  Frangoise  was  delayed  at 
the  porch  by  a  saddening  spectacle. 

Whilst  a  priest  was  murmuring  some  words  in  a  low 
voice,  two  or  three  dirty-looking  choristers,  in  stained 
surplices,  were  chanting  the  prayers  for  the  dead,  with 
an  inattentive  and  careless  air,  around  a  miserably  bad 
coffin,  beside  which  an  old  man  and  a  child,  wretchedly 
clad,  stood  alone  and  weeping  bitterly. 

The  door-opener  and  the  beadle,  very  much  scandalised 
at  being  disturbed  for  so  paltry  a  funeral,  had  disdained 
putting  on  their  liveries,  and  were  in  waiting,  yawning 
with  impatience  for  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremony 
which  brought  such  small  fees.  At  last  a  few  drops  of 
holy  water  fell  on  the  coffin,  the  priest  returned  the  holy 
water  sprinkler  to  the  beadle  and  went  away. 

Then  followed  one  of  those  shameful  scenes,  the  neces- 
sary consequence  of  a  dishonourable  and  sacrilegious 
traffic ;  one  of  those  disgusting  scenes  so  frequent  in 
cases  of  funerals  for  the  poor  who  cannot  pay  for  wax 
candles,  or  high  mass,  or  violins,  for  now  there  are 
violins  for  the  dead.1 

The  old  man  extended  his  hand  to  the  beadle  to  receive 
the  holy  water. 

1  At  the  church  of  St.  Thomas  d' Aquinas  at  Paris. 
262 


THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


"  Take  it,  and  be  quick  !  "  said  the  functionary  of  the 
sacristy,  blowing  his  fingers. 

The  emotion  of  the  old  man  was  great  —  his  weakness 
extreme.  He  remained  for  a  moment  motionless,  hold- 
ing the  brush,  which  was  dipped  in  the  holy  water,  closed 
in  his  trembling  hand.  In  the  bier  was  his  daughter,  — 
the  mother  of  the  ragged  child  who  was  weeping  beside 
him.  The  heart  of  the  poor  creature  was  bursting  at  the 
thoughts  of  this  last  adieu.  He  was  motionless,  except 
the  convulsive  sobs  that  heaved  his  breast. 

"  Come,  I  say,  make  haste  ! "  said  the  beadle,  brutally ; 
"  do  you  suppose  we  are  going  to  sleep  here  ?  "  1 

The  old  man  roused  himself.  He  made  a  sign  of  the 
cross  on  the  coffin,  and,  stooping,  was  about  to  place  the 
brush,  saturated  with  holy  water,  in  the  hand  of  his 
grandchild,  when  the  sacristan,  thinking  the  affair  had 
lasted  long  enough,  took  the  sprinkler  from  the  child's 
hands,  and  made  a  signal  to  the  bearers  to  lift  the  bier 
up  directly,  which  they  did. 

"  The  old  chap  was  not  in  a  hurry,"  said  the  porter, 
in  an  undertone  to  the  beadle,  as  they  regained  the  vestry- 
room;  "he  has  hardly  given  us  time  to  breakfast  and 
dress  ourselves  for  the  out-and-out  funeral  of  this  morn- 
ing. That's  a  real  thing  —  a  dead  corpse  that  deserves 
every  trouble  and  attention.    Heads  up,  soldiers  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  with  colonel's  epaulettes  on  our  shoulders, 
that  we  may  look  the  right  thing  in  the  eyes  of  the  pew- 
opener,  you  rascal !  "  said  the  beadle,  with  a  knowing  air. 

"  Well,  Cotillard,  it's  no  fault  of  mine  if  I  am  a  good 
looking  fellow,"  said  the  porter,  with  an  air  of  vanity ; 
"  and  I  cannot  put  out  women's  eyes  in  order  to  keep 
their  hearts  at  ease." 

And  the  two  worthies  entered  the  sacristy. 

The  sight  of  this  funeral  had  added  to  Franchise's 
melancholy. 

When  she  entered  the  church,  seven  or  eight  per- 

i  Fact. 
263 


THE  WAXDERIXG-  JEW. 


sons,  sitting  on  chairs  in  different  parts,  were  the  only 
congregation  in  this  damp  and  chilling  edifice. 

One  of  the  givers  of  holy  water,  a  curious  old  man 
with  a  red  face  bespeaking  a  love  of  wine  and  wassail, 
seeing  Francoise  come  to  the  benitier,  said  to  her,  in  a 
low  voice : 

"  M.^  the  Abbe  Dubois  is  not  yet  in  the  confessional 
(en  bovte),  make  haste  and  you  will  be  first  (vow  aurez 
Vetrenne  de  sa  harle)." 

Francoise,  pained  at  this  joke,  thanked  the  irreverent 
sacristan,  crossed  herself  devoutly,  went  a  few  steps 
forward,  and  then  fell  on  her  knees  on  a  step  to  say  the 
prayer  which  she  always  offered  up  before  she  approached 
the  confessional  chair. 

Having  said  this  prayer  she  went  forward  to  a  dark 
corner,  where  there  was  in  the  shadow  a  confessional, 
with  the  door  half  open,  and  having  within  a  black 
curtain.  The  two  places  right  and  left  were  vacant, 
and  Francoise,  kneeling  down  on  the  right  side,  remained 
for  some  time  plunged  in  the  most  bitter  reflections. 

After  some  minutes  a  priest  of  tall  stature,  with  gray 
hair,  a  grave  and  severe  countenance,  and  wearing  a 
long  black  cassock,  advanced  slowly  from  the  end  of  one 
of  the  aisles  of  the  church. 

A  little  old  man.  who  stooped  a  good  deal,  was 
shabbily  dressed,  and  leaned  on  an  umbrella,  accom- 
panied him,  speaking  to  him  at  times  in  low  whispers, 
and  then  the  priest  paused  and  listened  to  him  with 
profound  and  respectful  deference. 

As  they  approached  the  confessional,  the  little  old 
man,  seeing  Francoise  on  her  knees,  looked  inquisitively 
at  the  priest. 

"  'Tis  she,"  said  he. 

"  Then  in  two  or  three  hours  we  shall  expect  the 
two  young  girls  at  the  convent  of  Ste.  Marie  —  on  that 
I  rely,"  said  the  little  old  man. 

"  I  hope  so.  for  their  salvation's  sake,"  said  the  priest 

264 


THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


in  a  serious  tone,  and  bowing.  He  then  entered  the 
confessional. 

The  little  old  man  left  the  church.  This  little  old 
man  was  Rodin ;  and  on  leaving  St.  Merry  he  went  to 
the  Maison  de  Sante,  in  order  to  learn  whether  Doctor 
Baleinier  had  faithfully  fulfilled  his  instructions  with 
regard  to  Adrienne  de  Cardoville. 

Franchise  was  still  kneeling  in  the  interior  of  the 
confessional,  when  one  of  the  side  windows  opened  and 
a  voice  spake.  It  was  the  voice  of  the  priest,  who  for 
twenty  years  had  confessed  Dagobert's  wife,  and  had  an 
irresistible  and  all-powerful  influence  over  her. 

"  You  received  my  letter  ?  "  said  the  voice. 

"  Yes,  holy  father." 

"  Good  ;  I  listen  to  you." 

"  Bless  me,  holy  father,  for  I  have  sinned ! "  said 
Franchise. 

The  voice  pronounced  the  formula  of  benediction. 

Dagobert's  wife  replied  amen,  as  it  was  right  she 
should ;  said  her  confiteor  as  far  as  "  It  is  my  fault ; " 
gave  an  account  of  the  way  in  which  she  had  performed 
her  last  penitence ;  and  came  then  to  the  enumeration 
of  the  fresh  sins  committed  since  she  had  last  received 
absolution. 

This  excellent  woman,  this  real  martyr  of  labour  and 
maternal  love,  believed  she  was  always  sinning;  her 
conscience  was  incessantly  tormented  by  the  fear  of 
having  committed  a  quantity  of  indescribable  peccadillos. 
This  gentle  and  courageous  creature,  who,  after  a  life 
of  entire  devotion,  ought  to  have  reposed  in  the  calm 
and  serenity  of  her  soul,  considered  herself  as  a  great 
sinner,  and  lived  in  incessant  agony,  doubtful  of  her 
own  salvation. 

"  Father,"  said  Francoise,  in  a  tone  of  emotion,  "  I 
accuse  myself  of  not  having  said  my  evening  prayer  the 
day  before  yesterday.  My  husband,  from  whom  I  have 
been  separated  for  many  years,  arrived,  and  the  emotion, 

265 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


the  excitement,  the  joy  of  his  return,  caused  me  to 
commit  this  great  sin  of  which  I  accuse  myself." 

"  Well  ? "  said  the  voice,  in  a  tone  of  severity,  which 
disquieted  Francoise. 

"  Holy  father,  I  accuse  myself  of  having  fallen  into 
the  same  sin  yesterday  evening.  I  was  in  a  most 
anxious  state ;  my  son  did  not  return,  and  I  was  expect- 
ing him  every  moment,  and  the  time  passed  away  in 
this  anxiety." 

"  Well?"  said  the  voice. 

"  Holy  father,  I  accuse  myself  of  having  lied  all  the 
week  to  my  son,  by  telling  him,  when  replying  to  his 
remarks  on  the  weakness  of  my  health,  that  I  had  drank 
some  wine  at  my  repast.  I  preferred  leaving  it  for  him ; 
he  has  more  need  of  it  than  I  —  he  works  so  hard." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  voice. 

''Holy  father,  I  accuse  myself  of  having  wanted 
resignation  this  morning,  at  the  moment  when  I  learnt 
that  my  poor  son  had  been  arrested.  Instead  of  sub- 
mitting, with  respect  and  gratitude,  to  the  new  trial 
which  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  send  me,  alas !  I  was 
rebellious  in  my  grief,  and  I  accuse  myself  of  that." 

"A  bad  week,"  said  the  voice,  in  a  tone  still  more 
severe:  "a  bad  week!  You  have  continually  set  the 
creature  before  the  Creator.    Go  on." 

_  "  Alas,  father !  "  said  Francoise,  overwhelmed  with 
dismay,  "  I  know  I  am  a  great  sinner,  and  I  am  fearful 
of  being  in  the  way  to  still  greater  sins." 

"  Speak." 

"  My  husband  has  brought  from  the  farthest  part  of 
Siberia  two  young  orphan  girls,  daughters  of  Marshal 
Simon.  Yesterday  morning,  when  I  told  them  to  say 
their  prayers,  I  learnt  with  fright  and  distress  that 
they  knew  nothing  of  any  of  the  mysteries  of  the  faith, 
although  they  are  fifteen  years  old.  They  have  never 
received  any  sacrament,  not  even  that  of  baptism,  holy 
father  —  not  even  baptism  !  " 

266 


THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


"  Are  they  then  idolaters  ? "  exclaimed  the  voice,  in 
accents  of  anger  and  astonishment. 

"  It  is  that  which  distresses  me,  holy  father  ;  for  I  and 
my  husband,  supplying  the  place  of  parents  to  these 
young  orphans,  should  be  guilty  of  the  sins  they  commit, 
—  shall  we  not,  holy  father  ?  " 

"  Certainly !  Since  you  are  in  the  place  of  those  who 
should  watch  over  their  souls  ;  the  shepherd  is  ariswerable 
for  his  sheep,"  said  the  voice. 

"  Then,  holy  father,  in  case  they  were  in  deadly  sin, 
my  husband  and  I  should  be  in  deadly  sin  ?  " 

"  Assuredly,"  answered  the  voice,  "  you  stand  in 
stead  of  father  and  mother ;  and  the  father  and  mother 
are  guilty  of  all  the  sins  which  their  children  commit, 
when  the  children  sin  because  they  have  not  received 
a  Christian  education." 

"  Alas,  holy  father !  What  am  I  to  do  ?  I  address 
myself  to  you,  as  to  God.  Every  day,  every  hour,  that 
these  poor  young  girls  remain  in  idolatry,  they  incur 
eternal  damnation ;  do  they  not,  holy  father  ? "  said 
Franchise,  in  tones  of  deep  tribulation. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  voice ;  "  and  this  terrible  respon- 
sibility now  weighs  heavily  on  you  and  your  husband ; 
you  have  the  charge  of  their  souls." 

"  Alas,  have  mercy  on  me  !  "  said  Franchise,  weeping. 

"Do  not  distress  yourself  so  heavily,"  resumed  the 
voice,  in  a  gentler  tone  ;  "  fortunately  for  these  unfortu- 
nate children  they  have  met  you  in  their  wanderings ; 
they  will  have,  in  you  and  your  husband,  good  and  pious 
examples  ;  for  your  husband,  bad  as  he  was  in  former 
times,  now,  I  suppose,  performs  all  the  proper  religious 
exercises  ? " 

"  We  must  pray  for  him,  holy  father,"  replied  Fran- 
chise, sorrowfully ;  "  grace  has  not  yet  touched  him. 
He  is  like  a  poor  child  who  is  not  yet  touched  by  it. 
Ah,  holy  father,"  said  Francoise,  wiping  her  eyes, 
"these  thoughts  are  my  heaviest  cross." 

267 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Then  neither  your  husband  nor  your  son  communi- 
cate (pratiquent),"  said  the  voice,  in  a  tone  of  reflection ; 
"this  is  serious  — very  serious!  The  religious  educa- 
tion of  these  two  unhappy  young  girls  is  still  wholly  to 
be  done.  They  will  have  at  your  abode,  at  every  instant, 
deplorable  examples  under  their  eyes.  Take  care,  I  tell 
you.  You  have  a  charge  of  souls.  Your  responsibility 
is  enormous." 

"Oh,  holy  father,  it  is  that  which  distresses  me;  I 

do  not  know  what  to  do.    Come  to  my  aid  give  me 

your  advice.  For  twenty  years  your  voice  has  been  to 
me  the  voice  of  the  Lord." 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  come  to  an  understanding  with 
your  husband,  and  place  these  unhappy  girls  in  some 
religious  house,  where  they  will  receive  instruction." 

"  We  are  too  poor,  holy  father,  to  pay  their  board ; 
and,  still  more  unfortunate,  my  son  has  just  been  sent  to 
prison  for  some  songs  he  has  written." 

"  This  is  what  impiety  leads  to,"  said  the  voice,  in 
a  severe  tone.  "Look  at  Gabriel,  who  has  followed 
my  counsels,  and  at  this  hour  he  is  a  model  of  all  Chris- 
tian virtues ! " 

"  My  son  Agricola  has  his  good  qualities,  holy  father ; 
he  is  so  kind,  so  dutiful !  " 

"  Without  religion,"  said  the  voice,  with  redoubled 
severity,  "  what  you  call  good  qualities  are  but  vain  ap- 
pearances ;  at  the  least  breath  of  wind  from  the  devil 
they  disappear,  for  the  wicked  one  is  at  the  bottom  of 
every  soul  without  religion." 

"  Alas,  my  poor  boy  !  "  said  Franchise,  in  tears ;  «  I  pray 
every  day  that  he  may  be  enlightened  to  the  true  faith  !  " 

"  I  have  always  told  you,"  replied  the  voice, "  that  you 
are  too  weak  with  respect  to  him,  and  now  God  punishes 
you  for  it.  You  must  separate  from  this  irreligious  son, 
and  not  encourage  his  impiety  as  you  do  by  loving  him 
as  you  do.  When  you  have  an  offending  member,  saith 
the  Holy  Scripture,  cut  it  off." 

268 


THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


"  Alas,  holy  father !  You  know  it  is  the  only  time 
I  ever  disobeyed  you ;  but  I  could  not  bring  my  mind 
to  separate  from  my  child." 

"  Then  your  salvation  is  uncertain ;  but  God  is  merci- 
ful !  Do  not  fall  again  into  the  same  fault  with  respect 
to  these  two  young  girls,  whom  Providence  has  sent  to 
you  that  they  may  be  saved  by  you  from  eternal  damna- 
tion. Take  care  that  they  are  not  plunged  into  it  by 
your  culpable  indifference. " 

"  Alas,  holy  father !  I  have  wept  much  and  prayed 
much  for  them  !  " 

"  That  is  not  sufficient ;  these  unhappy  girls  have  no 
notion  of  good  or  evil.  Their  souls  must  be  an  abyss  of 
scandal  and  impurities,  brought  up,  as  they  have  been,  by 
an  impious  mother  and  an  unbelieving  soldier." 

"  As  to  that,  holy  father,"  said  Francoise,  ingenuously, 
"  do  not  be  alarmed ;  they  are  as  gentle  as  angels  ;  and 
my  husband,  who  has  not  quitted  them  since  they  were 
born,  says  their  hearts  are  beautifully  inclined." 

"Your  husband  has  spent  his  life  in  mortal  sin,"  said 
the  voice,  harshly ;  "  his  is  not  the  mind  to  judge  of  the 
state  of  souls  ;  and  I  repeat  to  you,  since  you  replace  the 
parents  of  these  unfortunate  children,  that  it  is  not 
to-morrow,  but  to-day,  —  this  very  hour,  — that  their 
salvation  must  be  worked  out,  or  else  you  incur  an 
awful  responsibility." 

"  That  is  true  ;  I  know  it  fully,  holy  father  ;  and  this 
fear  is  as  heavy  on  me  as  the  knowledge  of  my  son's 
arrest.  But  what  can  I  do  ?  I  cannot,  ignorant  as  I 
am,  instruct  these  young  girls  at  home.  I  have  nothing 
but  faith ;  and  then  my  poor  husband,  in  his  blindness, 
jests  at  holy  things,  which  my  son  respects  in  my  pres- 
ence, out  of  consideration  for  me.  Again,  holy  father, 
I  conjure  you  to  help  me !  Tell  me,  oh.  tell  me  what 
to  do ! " 

"We  must  not  abandon  to  all  perdition  two  young 
souls,"  said  the  voice,  after  a  moment's  silence ;  "  there 

269 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

are  no  two  roads  to  salvation,  _  there  is  but  one.  They 
must  be  placed  in  a  religious  house,  where  they  will  be 
surrounded  by  none  but  holy  and  pious  examples  " 

«  Ah,  holy  father !  If  we  were  not  so  poor,  or  if  even 
I  could  work  I  would  endeavour  to  gain  wherewithal  to 
pay  for  their  board,  and  do  as  I  did  for  Gabriel.  Unfor- 
tunately, my  sight  is  quite  gone ;  but  I  think,  holy  father 
you  must  know  so  many  charitable  souls  that  you  could 
interest  m  favour  of  these  two  poor  orphans." 

"  But  where  is  their  father  ? " 

"He  was  in  India;  my  husband  told  me  that  he 
expected  his  arrival  in  France  immediately,  but  nothing 
is  certain.  And  then  again,  holy  father,  my  heart  would 
bleed  to  see  these  poor  children  share  our  misery;  and 
that  will  soon  be  very  great,  for  we  only  lived  on  the 
labour  of  my  son." 

"  Then  the  girls  have  no  relation  here  ?"  inquired  the 
voice.  ^ 

"  I  think  not,  father." 

"  And  it  was  their  mother  who  confided  them  to  your 
husband,  to  bring  to  France  ?  " 

"Yes,  holy  father;  and  he  was  compelled  to  go 
toTd I™ ~"  t0  Chartres'  on  a  ver?  urSent  affair,  as  he 


me. 


It  will  be  remembered  that  Dagobert  had  not  thought 
tot  to  tell  his  wife  of  the  hopes  which  Marshal  Simon's 
daughters  founded  on  the  medal,  and  that  they  them- 
selves had  had  express  instructions  from  the  soldier  not 
to  speak  of  it  to  Francoise. 

"So,  then,"  resumed  the  voice,  after  some  minutes' 
silence,  "  your  husband  is  not  in  Paris  ? " 

"No,  holy  father;  but  he  will  return  to-night  or 
to-morrow  morning." 

"  Listen,"  said  the  voice,  after  another  pause ;  "  every 
minute  lost  in  the  salvation  of  these  young  girls  is  a 
new  step  which  they  will  take  towards  perdition.  At 
any  moment  the  hand  of  God  may  weigh  heavily  on 

270 


THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


them,  for  he  only  knows  the  hour  of  our  death !  And, 
dying  in  their  present  state,  they  might  be  damned  to 
all  eternity !  From  this  very  day,  therefore,  their  eyes 
must  be  opened  to  the  divine  light,  and  they  must  in- 
stantly be  taken  to  some  religious  house.  Such  is  your 
duty  ;  such  should  be  your  desire." 

"Oh,  yes,  holy  father;  but,  unfortunately,  I  am  too 
poor,  as  I  have  told  you." 

"  I  know  that  you  want  neither  zeal  nor  faith ;  but, 
even  if  you  were  capable  of  directing  these  young  girls, 
the  impious  examples  of  your  husband  and  son  would 
daily  destroy  your  work.  Others,  therefore,  must  do 
for  these  orphan  girls,  in  the  name  of  Christian  charity, 
what  you  cannot  do,  —  you  who  are  answerable  for  them 
before  God." 

"  Ah,  holy  father,  if,  thanks  to  you,  this  good  work 
could  be  accomplished,  what  would  be  my  gratitude  !  " 

"  It  is  not  impossible ;  I  am  acquainted  with  the  su- 
perior of  a  convent,  where  the  young  girls  would  be 
educated  as  they  ought  to  be.  The  usual  pension  would 
be  diminished,  on  account  of  their  poverty,  but,  however 
small  the  sum,  something  must  be  paid  with  them. 
They  would  also  require  to  be  fitted  out  with  suit- 
able clothing;  that,  also,  would  be  out  of  your  power 
to  provide?" 

"  Alas,  yes,  holy  father  !  " 

«  Well,  by  drawing  upon  my  charity-box,  and  applying 
to  certain  benevolent  persons,  who  are  always  ready  to 
assist  me  in  any  good  work,  I  feel  assured  I  could  make 
up  the  requisite  sum,  and  thus  procure  the  admission  of 
these  young  girls  into  the  convent." 

"  Oh,  reverend  father,  you  are  my  saviour,  as  well  as 
that  of  the  poor  children  !  " 

"  I  wish  to  be  so ;  but  from  the  interest  I  take  in  their 
welfare,  and  in  order  to  render  my  exertions  still  more 
efficacious,  I  must  impose  several  conditions  to  the 
assistance  I  offer  you." 

271 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"Oh,  name  them,  holy  father,  and  be  assured  they 
are  gratefully  accepted  beforehand.  Your  commands  are 
laws  to  me." 

"  In  the  first  place,  they  shall  be  taken  to  the  convent 
this  very  morning ;  you  shall  bring  them  to  my  house- 
keeper, for  that  purpose,  directly  you  return  home." 

"  Impossible,  reverend  father !  "  exclaimed  Francoise. 

"  Why  impossible  ?  " 

"  Because  of  my  husband's  absence." 

«  Well ! " 

"I  dare  not  take  such  a  determination  without  con- 
sulting him." 

"  You  must  not  only  abstain  from  consulting  him,  but 
select  the  very  time  of  his  absence  for  doing  as  I  com- 
mand you." 

"And  wherefore,  holy  father,  may  I  not  await  his 
return  ? " 

"For  two  good  and  convincing  reasons,"  replied  the 
voice,  in  a  severe  tone ;  "  for  two  reasons  must  you  care- 
fully avoid  letting  him  know  anything  of  the  matter: 
and,  first,  because  his  hardened  impiety  would  most 
certainly  lead  him  to  oppose  your  wise  and  pious  resolu- 
tion ;  and,  secondly,  because  it  being  indispensable  to  the 
good  work  that  these  young  girls  should  hold  no  further 
communion  with  your  husband,  it  is  essential  that  he 
should  be  kept  in  utter  ignorance  of  the  place  of  their 
retreat." 

"  But,  holy  father,"  replied  Francoise,  a  prey  to  the 
most  cruel  and  conflicting  emotions,  "these  children 
were  confided  to  the  especial  care  of  my  husband ;  how 
can  I  presume  to  dispose  of  them  without  his  knowledge  ? 
It  would  be  —  " 

Here  the  voice  interrupted  Francoise  by  asking, 
angrily: 

"  Can  you  or  can  you  not  instruct  these  young  people, 
if  they  remain  with  you  ?  " 

"  Alas,  no,  reverend  father !    I  have  not  the  power." 

272 


THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


"  Would  they  or  would  they  not  be  exposed  to  a  con- 
tinued state  of  ignorance  and  impenitence  if  they  contin- 
ued with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  holy  father,  they  certainly  would." 
_  "  And  are  you  or  are  you  not  responsible,  in  the 
sight  of  God,  for  all  the  sins  they  may  commit,  having 
taken  upon  yourselves  the  place  of  parents  towards 
them  ? " 

"  I  am,  with  my  husband,  accountable  to  heaven  for 
their  sins  upon  earth,  and  eternal  punishment  if  we 
allow  them  to  continue  in  sin." 

"  And  do  you  or  do  you  not  believe  it  is  to  promote 
their  eternal  salvation  that  I  enjoin  you  to  place  them  in 
a  convent  this  very  day  ? " 

"  I  firmly  believe  it  to  be  for  the  preservation  of  their 
immortal  souls." 

"  Then  it  is  for  you  to  decide." 

"  Father,  I  beseech,  I  implore  you  to  tell  me  truly, 
k  have  I  the  right  to  dispose  of  these  poor  children  without 
the  consent  of  my  husband  ?  " 

"  The  right !  This  is  no  question  of  right ;  it  involves 
a  sacred  duty.  Would  it  not  be  your  duty  to  pluck 
these  unfortunate  girls  from  the  midst  of  a  burning  fire, 
even  against  the  express  prohibition  of  your  husband  or 
during  his  absence  ?  Well,  then,  you  are  now  called 
upon  to  snatch  them  from  flames,  not  such  as  would 
consume  their  mortal  frame,  but  from  that  fire  which 
never  dieth,  and  which  cannot  be  extinguished  through 
all  eternity." 

"  Pardon,  oh,  pardon  me,  holy  father,  I  humbly  sup- 
plicate, I  entreat!"  cried  the  unhappy  woman,  whose 
mind  was  like  a  troubled  sea  of  fearful  uncertainty  and 
apprehension  of  doing  wrong.  «  Oh,  tell  me,  can  I  act 
thus  after  having  so  solemnly  vowed  obedience  to  mv 
husband  ? "  J 

"  Your  obedience  was  vowed  to  all  good  and  just  deeds, 
not  evil  works ;  and  you  yourself  admit  that,  if  left  to 

273 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


him,  the  salvation  of  these  orphans  would  be  endangered, 
if  not  rendered  absolutely  impossible." 

"  But,  reverend  father,"  said  Franchise,  trembling, 
"  when,  upon  his  return,  my  husband  shall  ask  where 
I  have  placed  the  children,  must  I  answer  him  with  a 
lie?" 

"  Silence  is  not  falsehood,  and  you  may  tell  him  you 
are  not  at  liberty  to  reply  to  his  question." 

"  My  husband  is  one  of  the  best  of  men ;  but  such  a 
reply  would  enrage  him.  He  has  been  a  soldier,  and  his 
anger  would  be  fearful,  holy  father,"  cried  Franchise, 
shuddering  at  the  very  idea  of  the  storm  she  had  con- 
jured up. 

"  And,  were  his  anger  a  hundred  times  more  terrible, 
you  should  not  hesitate  to  dare  it,  and  glorify  yourself 
for  suffering  in  such  a  cause,"  exclaimed  the  voice,  in- 
dignantly. "  Think  you  that  it  is  so  easy  to  work  out 
our  salvation  on  this  earth  ?  Should  the  repentant  sin- 
ner, who  ardently  desires  to  serve  his  Lord,  complain  of 
the  stones  which  bruise  his  feet,  or  the  thorns  which 
lacerate  his  flesh  ?  " 

"  Pardon,  holy  father,  pardon  !  "  said  Franchise,  with 
a  subdued  spirit ;  "  deign  but  to  answer  one  question  — 
one  only.  Alas  !  if  you  do  not  guide  me,  to  whom  can 
I  turn  ?  " 

"  Speak ! " 

"  When  Marshal  Simon  arrives,  he  will  demand  his 
daughters  of  my  husband ;  what  answer  can  he  make  to 
such  a  natural  inquiry  ?  " 

"  You  will  let  me  know  directly  Marshal  Simon  ar- 
rives, and  then  I  will  instruct  you  how  to  act ;  for  the 
rights  of  a  parent  are  only  sacred  so  long  as  he  employs 
his  power  for  the  salvation  of  his  children.  Above  the 
earthly  parent,  and  before  his  claims,  comes  the  Heavenly 
Father,  who  must  first  be  served  and  obeyed.  Reflect 
well,  then,  ere  you  decide ;  by  accepting  what  I  propose, 
these  young  girls  will  be  rescued  from  perdition,  you 

274 


THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


will  be  freed  from  all  expense  in  maintaining  them, 
they  will  not  be  involved  in  jour  present  distress,  and, 
above  all,  they  will  be  educated  in  a  holy  mansion  be- 
coming their  station  as  the  daughters  of  a  marechal  due 
de  France  ;  so  that,  upon  their  father's  arrival  in  Paris, 
if  he  be  worthy  of  seeing  them  again,  instead  of  finding 
them  poor,  half  ignorant  savages,  —  mere  idolaters,  —  he 
will  receive  the  delight  of  meeting  two  modest,  pious, 
well-informed,  well-conducted  young  persons,  who,  having 
obtained  favour  in  the  sight  of  God,  may  invoke  his 
mercy  and  grace  for  their  father,  who  stands  sorely  in 
need  of  it,  being,  as  he  is,  a  man  of  violence,  of  war,  and 
of  battle.  Now,  then,  decide  finally;  will  you,  at  the 
peril  of  your  soul,  sacrifice  the  welfare  of  these  young 
girls,  both  in  this  world  and  in  that  which  is  to  come, 
from  a  weak  and  impious  dread  of  the  anger  of  your 
husband  ?  " 

However  harsh  and  marked  with  intolerance  might  be 
the  language  employed  by  Franchise's  confessor,  it  was 
still  what  the  honest  and  sincerely  zealous  man  believed, 
according  to  his  view  of  the  case,  only  reasonable  and 
just.  The  blind  instrument  of  Rodin,  and  utterly  igno- 
rant of  the  motives  which  instigated  others,  he  firmly 
believed  that,  while  in  a  manner  forcing  Francoise  to 
place  these  poor  children  in  a  convent,  he  was  only 
fulfilling  a  pious  and  sacred  duty. 

Such  was,  and  still  is,  one  of  the  marvellous  resources 
of  the  Order  to  which  Rodin  belonged,  —  the  obtaining 
men  of  upright  character  and  sincere  integrity  as  con- 
federates in  schemes  whose  villainy  they  never  suspected, 
while  acting,  though  unconsciously,  the  most  important 
part  in  the  dark  machinations. 

Francoise,  for  many  years  accustomed  to  yield  the 
most  implicit  obedience  to  her  confessor,  knew  not  what 
to  reply  to  his  last  words  ;  but  her  understanding,  though 
unconvinced,  furnished  no  suitable  argument;  and  she 
therefore  laid  aside  all  further  opposition,  even  while 

275 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

shuddering  at  the  bare  anticipation  of  Dagobert's  furious 
rage  at  the  loss  of  those  children  a. dying  mother  had 
committed  to  his  charge.  Now,  according  to  her  con- 
fessor, the  greater  her  dread  of  the  consequences  of 
Dagobert's  violent  anger,  the  greater  should  be  her 
humility  and  submission  to  all  that  might  befall  her. 
She  therefore  replied  only  : 

"  The  will  of  God  be  done,  holy  father !  And  what- 
ever may  happen,  I  will  discharge  the  duty  of  a  good 
Christian,  according  to  your  directions." 

"  And,  be  assured,  the  Lord  will  be  pleased  to  accept 
of  all  you  may  have  to  endure  in  the  performance  of  this 
duty  as  a  humble  sacrifice  of  yourself  to  his  service. 
You  must  now  solemnly  vow,  in  the  presence  of  God,  to 
answer  no  question  your  husband  may  put  to  you  con- 
cerning the  daughters  of  General  Simon." 

"  I  solemnly  promise  ! "  answered  Francoise,  with  a 
convulsive  shudder. 

_  «  And  you  must  also  engage  to  maintain  the  same 
silence  towards  General  Simon,  in  the  event  of  his  re- 
turning before  I  shall  consider  his  daughters  sufficiently 
established  in  the  right  road  to  be  given  up  to  him." 

"I  promise,  holy  father,"  replied  Francoise,  in  a 
voice  of  increasing  feebleness. 

"  You  win  come  to  relate  to  me  every  particular  of 
the  scene  which  ensues  upon  your  husband's  return  ? " 

"  I  will,  holy  father.  When  shall  I  take  the  orphans 
to  your  house  ?" 

"  In  an  hour's  time.  I  will  now  go  and  write  to  the 
superior  of  the  convent  I  mentioned  to  you.  I  will  leave 
the  letter  with  my  housekeeper,  who  is  a  very  trust- 
worthy person,  and  will  conduct  the  young  girls  herself 
to  the  convent." 

After  having  listened  to  the  exhortations  of  her  con- 
fessor as  to  her  past  misdoings,  received  absolution, 
accompanied  by  adequate  penance  enjoining  strict  self- 

276 


THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


denial,  etc.,  the  wife  of  Dagobert  quitted  the  confes- 
sional. 

The  church  was  no  longer  deserted.  An  immense 
crowd  was  assembled,  attracted  by  the  pomp  and  mag- 
nificence of  the  funeral  of  which  the  porter  had  been 
talking  to  the  beadle  two  hours  ago. 

It  was  with  much  difficulty  Francoise  managed  to 
reach  the  doors  of  the  church,  sumptuously  hung  with 
richly  ornamented  draperies. 

What  a  contrast  did  it  present  to  the  humble  train 
that  had  so  timidly  crept  under  the  same  porch  only  two 
short  hours  ago ! 

The  numerous  ministers  of  the  parish  assembled  to- 
gether advanced  majestically  along  to  receive  the  coffin, 
covered  with  its  velvet  pall,  while  the  rich  silk  of  their 
copes  and  stoles,  glittering  with  silver  embroidery, 
sparkled  and  shone  brightly  in  the  blaze  of  the  numer- 
ous wax  tapers. 

The  porter,  adorned  with  his  full-dress  livery,  and  the 
beadle,  holding  his  staff  of  authority,  stood  opposite  each 
other, 'fully  impressed  with  their  own  important  parts  in 
the  pageant  then  being  enacted;  the  choristers,  robed 
in  snowy  white  garments,  sang  their  loudest,  sweetest 
strains  in  honour  of  the  rich  man's  obsequies ;  the  full 
peal  of  the  organ  resounded  through  the  building ;  even 
the  windows  vibrated  as  the  burst  of  funereal  harmony 
floated  along  the  sacred  pile.  Each  person  appointed  to 
share  in  these  demonstrations  of  regard  for  the  good, 
the  rich  deceased,  whose  funeral  was  so  very  superior 
and  distinguS,  seemed  elate  with  satisfaction  at  making 
one  in  an  affair  where  no  expense  had  been  spared.  And 
this  complacency  of  feeling  was  still  further  manifested 
in  the  pleased  and  contented  countenances  of  the  heirs, 
two  healthy-looking,  robust  men,  who,  while  carefully 
preserving  that  modest  dejection  and  prescribed  compo- 
sure of  feature,  were  evidently  indulging  their  own  bright 
anticipations  of  the  future;  and,  beneath  their  long, 

277 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


sable  garments  of  woe,  revelling  in  many  a  pleasing 
scheme  for  days  to  come,  now  such  wealth  would  be 
theirs. 

Spite  of  her  pure  and  simple  faith,  the  wife  of  Dago- 
bert  was  painfully  struck  with  the  revolting  difference 
observed  in  the  reception  of  the  coffin  of  the  rich  man 
compared  with  that  of  the  poor,  and  that  at  the  door  of 
the  house  of  God !  For,  whatever  worldly  distinctions 
may  exist,  surely  death  and  eternity  make  all  men 
equal ! 

The  two  painful  spectacles  Franchise  had  witnessed, 
and  which  called  forth  these  reflections,  did  not  tend  to 
lessen  the  depression  of  her  spirits ;  and  having  with 
some  difficulty  quitted  the  church,  she  quickened  her 
steps  towards  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  in  order  to  conduct 
the  orphans  to  the  house  of  her  confessor,  whose  house- 
keeper was  to  convey  them  to  the  convent  of  Ste.  Marie, 
situated,  as  the  reader  is  aware,  adjoining  the  madhouse 
of  Doctor  Baleinier,  where  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  was 
confined. 


278 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


MONSIEUR  AND  KILLJOY. 

Dagobert's  wife,  on  leaving  the  church,  had  reached 
the  entrance  to  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  when  she  was  over- 
taken by  the  giver  of  the  holy  water,  who  had  run  after 
her,  until  out  of  breath,  to  beg  her  to  return  immediately 
to  St.  Merry,  as  the  Abbe  Dubois  had  something  most 
important  to  say  to  her. 

At  the  moment  that  Franchise  retraced  her  steps,  a 
hackney-coach  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  house  which 
she  inhabited. 

The  coachman  descended  from  his  box  and  opened 
the  coach  door. 

"  Coachman,"  said  a  stout  female  clothed  in  black, 
who  was  seated  in  this  carriage,  and  had  a  pug-dog  on 
her  knees,  "inquire  if  Mme.  Franchise  Baudoin  lives 
here.', 

"  Yes,  mistress,"  said  the  coachman. 

Our  readers  no  doubt  have  recognised  Madame  Grivois, 
first  lady  in  waiting  to  the  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier, 
accompanied  by  Monsieur,  who  exercised  supreme  tyr- 
anny over  his  mistress. 

The  dyer,  whom  we  have  already  seen  discharging 
the  functions  of  porter,  being  asked  by  the  coachman  as 
to  Franchise's  residence,  left  his  workshop  and  came 
politely  to  the  coach  door  to  reply  to  Madame  Grivois 
that  Franchise  Baudoin  lived  in  the  house,  but  had  not 
returned  home. 

Father  Lorrain's  arms,  hands,  and  a  part  of  his  face 

279 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


were  of  a  splendid  gold  colour.  The  sight  of  this  per- 
sonage, all  covered  with  yellow  ochre,  offended  and  irri- 
tated Monsieur;  and,  at  the  moment  when  the  dyer 
placed  his  hand  on  the  ridge  of  the  coach  door,  the  pug 
gave  a  snappish  bark  and  bit  him  in  the  wrist. 

<<  Ah!"  exclaimed  Madame  Grivois,  in  an  agony, 
whilst  Father  Lorrain  withdrew  his  hand  hastily.  "I 
trust  there  is  nothing  poisonous  in  the  dye  you  have  on 
your  hand, — my  dog  is  so  very  delicate." 

And  she  carefully  wiped  the  flat  muzzle  of  Monsieur, 
which  was  in  places  stained  with  yellow. 

Father  Lorrain,  who  was  but  ill  satisfied  with  the 
apologies  which  he  expected  from  Madame  Grivois  in 
consequence  of  the  bad  conduct  of  her  pet  cur,  could 
hardly  repress  his  anger. 

"  Madame,  if  you  did  not  belong  to  the  softer  sex, 
who  always  have  my  utmost  respect,  and  which  I  there- 
fore now  extend  to  this  beastly  cur,  I  would,  most 
assuredly,  take  him  by  the  tail,  and  in  one  moment 
transform  him  into  an  orange-coloured  pug,  by  dipping 
him  into  my  dying  vat,  which  is  at  this  moment  ready." 

«  Dye  my  dog  orange  colour !  "  shrieked  out  Madame 
Grivois,  who  in  excessive  rage  alighted  from  the  coach, 
hugging  Monsieur  tenderly  to  her  bosom,  and  looking  at 
Father  Lorrain  with  an  angry  glance. 

"Madame,  I  have  told  you  that  Madame  Franchise 
was  not  within,"  said  the  dyer,  seeing  the  mistress  of 
the  surly  pug  about  to  ascend  the  dark  staircase. 

"  Very  well ;  then  I  will  wait  for  her,"  said  Madame 
Grivois,  dryly.  «  On  what  staircase  does  she  live  ? " 

"  On  the  fourth,"  said  Father  Lorrain,  returning  ab- 
ruptly to  his  shop.  And  he  said  to  himself,  smiling 
complacently  at  the  mischievous  idea,  "I  hope  that 
Father  Dagobert's  great  dog  will  be  in  an  ill  humour, 
and  that  he  will  seize  this  nasty  brute  by  the  scruff  of 
his  neck,  and  rather  astonish  his  delicate  feelings." 
Madame  Grivois  went  up  the  rugged  staircase  with 
280 


MONSIEUR  AND  KILLJOY. 


considerable  difficulty,  stopping  at  each  story  to  take 
breath,  and  looking  around  her  with  exceeding  disgust. 
At  last  she  reached  the  fourth  flight,  stopped  a  moment, 
and  then  entered  the  humble  chamber  in  which  were  the' 
two  sisters  and  La  Mayeux. 

The  young  work-girl  was  occupied  in  getting  together 
the  different  things  she  was  to  take  to  the  Mont  de  Piete. 

Rose  and  Blanche  seemed  very  happy,  and  somewhat 
reassured  as  to  the  future,  for  they  had  learned  from  La 
Mayeux  that  they  might,  if  they  worked  hard,  and  they 
could  sew,  gain  between  the  two  eight  francs  a  week,  — 
a  small  sum,  which  was  at  least  a  resource  for  a  family. 

The  presence  of  Madame  Grivois  at  Francoise  Baudoin's 
was  caused  by  a  new  determination  of  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny 
and  the  Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier,  who  had  judged  it  more 
prudent  to  send  Madame  Grivois,  in  whom  they  blindly 
confided,  to  go  after  the  young  girls  at  Franchise's ;  she 
(Francoise)  being  informed  by  her  confessor  that  it  was 
not  to  his  housekeeper,  but  to  a  lady  who  would  come 
with  a  message  from  him,  that  the  young  girls  were  to 
be  entrusted  and  conveyed  to  a  religious  house. 

After  having  knocked,  the  confidential  maid  of  the 
Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier  entered,  and  inquired  for  Fran- 
chise Baudoin. 

"  She  is  not  here,  madame,"  said  La  Mayeux,  timidly, 
much  astonished  at  such  a  visit,  and  lowering  her  eyes 
before  the  look  of  this  woman. 

"  Then  I  will  wait  for  her,  for  I  wish  to  speak  to  her 
on  yery  particular  business,"  replied  Madame  Grivois, 
looking  scrutmisingly  and  with  curiosity  at  the  faces  of 
the  two  orphans ;  who,  much  abashed,  also  cast  their 
eyes  on  the  ground. 

Having  spoken,  Madame  Grivois  seated  herself,  not 
without  some  repugnance,  in  the  old  armchair  belonging 
to  Dagobert's  wife ;  and  thinking  she  might  then  let 
Monsieur  be  at  liberty,  she  placed  him  carefully  on  the 


281 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


At  that  moment  a  sort  of  low,  deep,  hollow  note  was 
heard  behind  the  armchair,  which  made  Madame  Grivois 
start ;  and  the  pug  uttered  a  cry  of  terror,  which  made 
his  very  fat  sides  shiver,  and  he  ensconced  himself  near 
his  mistress  with  every  symptom  of  angry  fear. 

"  What !  Is  there  a  dog  here  ?  "  exclaimed  Madame 
Grivois,  who  stooped  and  took  Monsieur  up  in  her  arms 
as  quickly  as  possible.  Killjoy,  as  if  he  were  desirous  of 
replying  to  the  question  himself,  rose  slowly  from  behind 
the  chair  where  he  had  been  lying  down,  and  showed 
himself,  yawning  and  stretching  his  full  length. 

At  the  sight  of  this  powerful  animal,  and  his  two  rows 
of  sharp  and  formidable  fangs,  which  he  complaisantly 
showed  by  opening  his  wide  throat  to  the  utmost,  Madame 
Grivois  could  not  restrain  a  cry  of  affright.  The  ugly 
pug  had  at  first  trembled  in  every  joint  when  he  found 
himself  confronted  by  Killjoy,  but,  once  in  safety  on  his 
mistress's  knees,  he  began  to  growl  impertinently,  and  to 
cast  at  the  Siberian  dog  most  provoking  looks ;  but  the 
worthy  companion  of  the  deceased  Jovial  replied  disdain- 
fully by  a  fresh  yawn,  after  which,  sniffing  the  clothes  of 
Madame  Grivois  with  a  kind  of  uneasy  air,  he  went  and 
stretched  himself  out  at  the  feet  of  Rose  and  Blanche, 
on  whom  he  fixed  his  large,  intelligent  eyes  as  if  he 
anticipated  that  some  danger  threatened  them. 

"  Turn  the  dog  out  from  here  !  "  said  Madame  Grivois, 
in  an. imperative  tone.  "  He  frightens  mine,  and  may  do 
him  some  harm." 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,  madame,"  replied  Rose,  smiling ; 
"  Killjoy  is  never  naughty  unless  he  is  attacked." 

"No  matter,"  said  Madame  Grivois;  "a  misfortune 
soon  happens.  To  look  at  that  enormous  dog,  with  his 
wolf's  head  and  his  horrid  teeth,  makes  one  tremble  for 
what  may  happen.    I  tell  you  to  turn  him  out !  " 

Madame  Grivois  had  pronounced  these  last  words  in 
an  angry  voice,  whose  tenor  sounded  ill  in  the  ears  of 
Killjoy,  who  growled,  showed  his  teeth,  and  turned  his 

282 


MONSIEUR  AND  KILLJOY. 


head  in  the  direction  of  this  woman,  whom  he  did  not 
know. 

"  Be  quiet,  Killjoy !  "  said  Blanche,  in  an  angry  tone. 

A  person  now  entered  the  room  who  put  an  end  to 
this  posture  of  affairs,  which  was  very  embarrassing 
to  the  two  girls.  This  individual  was  a  messenger,  who 
held  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  What  is  your  pleasure,  sir  ? "  inquired  La  Mayeux. 

"  I  have  a  letter  in  very  great  haste  from  a  worthy 
man,  the  husband  of  the  mistress  here ;  the  dyer  down- 
stairs desired  me  to  bring  it  up,  although  she  is  not  at 
home.', 

"  A  letter  from  Dagobert ! "  exclaimed  Rose  and 
Blanche,  with  much  joy.  "What,  has  he  returned? 
Where  is  he?" 

"  I  do  not  know  if  the  worthy  gentleman's  name  is 
Dagobert,"  said  the  messenger;  "but  he  is  an  old 
trooper  who  is  decorated  with  gray  moustachios,  —  he 
is  not  two  steps  off,  at  the  office  of  the  coaches  for 
Chartres  " 

"Yes,  that  is  he,"  said  Blanche.  "Give  me  the 
letter." 

The  messenger  handed  the  letter,  and  the  voung  girl 
opened  it  hastily. 

Madame  Grivois  was  thunderstruck;  she  knew  that 
Dagobert  had  been  sent  away  in  order  that  the  Abbe 
Dubois  might  the  easier  influence  Francoise.  So  far  all 
had  succeeded,  and  the  latter  had  agreed  to  confide  the 
two  young  girls  to  religious  hands.  But  at  this  very 
moment  the  soldier  arrived,  he  whom  they  believed 
absent  from  Paris  for  two  or  three  days ;  and  thus  his 
sudden  return  would  ruin  the  laborious  machination,  at 
the  very  moment  when  they  believed  they  were  about  to 
reap  the  fruit  of  it ! 

"Ah,"  said  Rose,  after  having  perused  the  letter, 
"  what  a  misfortune  !  " 

"  What,  sister  ? "  asked  Blanche. 

283 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Yesterday,  when  half  way  on  his  road  to  Chartres, 
Dagobert  discovered  that  he  had  lost  his  purse.  He 
could  not  continue  his  journey,  but  obtained  credit  for 
a  place  back  again  ;  and  he  now  begs  his  wife  to  send 
him  money  to  the  office  of  the  diligence,  where  he  is 
waiting." 

"Yes,  that's  all  about  it,"  said  the  commissioner; 
" for  the  worthy  man  told  me,  <  Make  haste,  my  lad 
for  here  you  see  I  am  in  pawn.'  " 

"  And  nothing  —  nothing  in  the  house !  "  said  Blanche 
"Oh,  what  shall  we  do?" 

At  these  words  Madame  Grivois  had  a  moment's  hope, 
but  it  was  soon  damped  by  La  Mayeux,  who  suddenly 
said,  pointing  to  the  bundle  she  was  collecting : 

"Make  yourselves  easy,  young  ladies;  we  have  a 
resource  in  the  Mont  de  Pie'te,  which  is  not  far  dis- 
tant, and  where  I  will  carry  this.  I  shall  get  the  money, 
and  I  will  take  it  directly  to  M.  Dagobert,  and  he  will  be 
here  in  half  an  hour  at  furthest." 

"  Ah,  dear  Mayeux,  you  are  right,"  said  Rose ;  "  how 
good  you  are  !    You  think  of  everything." 

"  Here,"  added  Blanche,  « the  address  is  on  the  mes- 
senger's letter ;  take  it." 

"Thanks,  mademoiselle,"  replied  La  Mayeux;  and 
then  she  said  to  the  messenger,  "  Return  to  the  person 
who  sent  you,  and  tell  him  that  I  will  be  with  him  at  the 
coach  office  in  a  very  short  time." 

"  Infernal  humpback  !  "  thought  Madame  Grivois,  with 
concentrated  rage.  "  She  thinks  of  everything ;  but  for 
her  we  should  have  avoided  the  unlooked-for  return  of 
this  confounded  man.  What  is  to  be  done  now  ?  The 
young  girls  will  not  go  with  me  before  the  soldier's  wife 
returns,  and  to  propose  to  take  them  away  would  be  to 
incur  certain  refusal  and  excite  certain  suspicion.  Oh, 
what  is  to  be  done  for  the  best  ? " 

"  Do  not  be  uneasy,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  messenger, 
as  he  went  away.  "  I  will  give  your  message  to  the  worthy 

284 


MONSIEUR  AND  KILLJOY. 


man,  and  inform  him  that  he  will  not  have  long  to  wait 
at  the  office." 

Whilst  La  Mayeux  was  employed  in  making  up  her 
packet,  and  putting  the  silver  cup  and  spoon  and  fork  in 
it,  Madame  Grivois  was  lost  in  reflection.  All  at  once 
she  started ;  her  countenance,  which  for  some  time  had 
been  overcast,  disturbed,  and  disquieted,  became  bright- 
ened, and  she  rose,  still  holding  Monsieur  in  her  arms, 
and  said  to  the  young  girls : 

"  Since  Madame  Francoise  does  not  return,  I  will  pay 
a  visit  close  by.  I  shall  soon  return.  You  will  be  so  good 
as  to  say  so  to  her." 

So  saying,  Madame  Grivois  went  away  a  few  minutes 
before  La  Mayeux. 


•285 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


APPEARANCES. 

After  having  bid  the  two  orphans  to  take  courage, 
La  Mayeux  went  down  the  stairs,  but  with  some  diffi- 
culty, for  she  had  first  gone  to  her  own  chamber,  in 
order  to  add  to  the  bundle,  already  heavy,  a  woollen 
counterpane,  the  only  one  she  possessed,  and  which 
protected  her  a  little  from  the  cold  in  her  miserable 
apartment. 

The  night  before,  overcome  by  her  uneasiness  on  Agri- 
cola's  behalf,  the  young  girl  could  not  work ;  the  pangs 
of  expectation,  hope,  and  anxiety  had  prevented  her,  and 
her  day  was  lost.    Still  she  must  live. 

The  overwhelming  troubles  which  break  down  the 
poor,  even  to  the  deprivation  of  their  power  to  work, 
are  doubly  terrible  ;  they  paralyse  the  strength,  and 
with  the  relaxation  from  work  which  pain  imposes  come 
destitution  and  distress. 

But  La  Mayeux,  the  perfect  and  touching  type  of  holy 
duty,  had  still  to  devote  herself  to  being  useful,  and 
she  had  strength  for  that.  The  most  frail  and  weak 
creatures  are  occasionally  endued  with  extraordinary 
vigour  of  soul,  and  it  might  be  said  that  with  feeble 
and  debilitated  constitutions  the  mind  is  so  far  superior 
to  the  body  as  to  impose  on  it  factitious  energy. 

Thus  La  Mayeux  for  four  and  twenty  hours  had 
neither  eaten  nor  slept,  and  had  suffered  all  the  cold 
of  a  freezing  night.  In  the  morning  she  had  undergone 
violent  fatigue  in  traversing  Paris  twice  through  snow 

286 


APPEARANCES. 


and  sleet,  to  go  to  the  Rue  de  JBabylone,  and  yet  her 
strength  was  not  exhausted ;  so  vast  is  the  power  of  the 
heart. 

La  Mayeux  had  reached  the  corner  of  the  Rue  St. 
Merry. 

Since  the  recent  conspiracy  in  the  Rue  des  Prouvaires 
there  had  been  a  great  number  of  additional  agents  of 
police  and  sergents-de-ville  stationed  in  this  district. 

The  young  workwoman,  although  bending  beneath  the 
weight  of  her  bundle,  ran  quickly  along  the  pathway ; 
and,  at  the  instant  when  she  passed  close  to  a  sergent- 
de-ville,  two  five-franc  pieces  fell  behind  her,  dropped  by 
a  large  woman  clothed  in  black,  who  followed  her. 

The  stout  woman  then  pointed  out  to  the  sergent- 
de-ville  the  two  pieces  of  money  which  had  fallen  and 
said  in  a  quick  tone  a  few  words,  pointing  towards  La 
Mayeux. 

This  woman  then  disappeared  at  a  quick  pace  in  the 
direction  of  the  Rue  Brise-Miche. 

The  sergent-de-ville,  struck  with  what  Madame  Grivois 
had  said  to  him  (for  it  was  she),  picked  up  the  money, 
and,  running  after  La  Mayeux,  exclaimed : 

"  Holla,  holla,  you,  there  !    Stop !    Stop  that  woman  ! " 

At  these  cries  several  persons  turned  around  quickly, 
and  in  these  quarters  a  knot  of  five  or  six  people  soon 
assembles,  and  increases  in  a  minute  or  two  to  a  consid- 
erable mob. 

m  Ignorant  that  the  call  of  the  sergent-de-ville  was 
directed  to  her,  La  Mayeux  hurried  onwards,  only  think- 
ing of  reaching  the  Mont  de  Piete  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible, and  endeavouring  to  pass  through  the  throng 
without  jostling  anybody,  so  much  did  she  dread  the 
brutal  and  cruel  jests  which  her  infirmity  so  often 
excited. 

Suddenly  she  heard  several  persons  running  behind 
her,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  hand  was  rudely  laid  on 
her  shoulder. 

287 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


It  was  the  sergent-de-ville,  followed  by  a  police  agent, 
who  came  up  at  the  noise. 

La  Mayeux,  equally  surprised  and  alarmed,  turned 
around. 

She  found  herself  already  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd, 
composed  of  that  idle  and  ragged,  wretched  and  insolent 
mob,  brutalised  by  ignorance  and  misery,  which  is  al- 
ways tramping  the  streets.  In  this  assemblage  we  seldom 
see  working  people,  for  they  are  usually  at  their  shops 
and  at  labour. 

"  I  say,  why  don't  you  hear  them  ?  Why,  you're  like 
Jean  d'Urville's  dog,"  said  the  police  agent,  seizing  La 
Mayeux  so  rudely  by  the  arm  that  she  dropped  her 
bundle. 

When  the  unfortunate  girl,  looking  about  her,  saw, 
with  horror,  all  eyes  upon  her  with  insolent,  brutal, 
and  insulting  glances,  —  when  she  saw  the  scowl  or 
coarse  grin  on  all  these  low  and  ill-cast  countenances, 
she  turned  deathly  pale. 

The  police  sergeant  spoke  roughly ;  but  how  could  he 
be  expected  to  speak  otherwise  to  a  poor,  pale,  terrified, 
and  deformed  object,  whose  countenance  was  convulsed 
with  fear  and  grief,  whose  attire  betokened  the  most 
abject  poverty,  and  whose  wretched  cotton  gown  was 
drenched  with  wet,  and  heavy  with  mud  ?  For  long  and 
wearisome  had  been  the  poor  girl's  journeyings  during 
the  hours  she  had  toiled  to  obtain  news  of  Agricola. 
Thus,  therefore,  the  police  sergeant,  in  obedience  to  that 
universally  received  law,  that  rags  and  misery  justly 
warrant  every  unworthy  suspicion  of  the  unfortunate 
possessors,  added,  in  a  tone  of  severe  authority : 

"  Holla,  my  girl,  you  must  be  deucedly  pressed  for 
time,  since  you  cannot  stop  even  to  pick  up  your  money 
after  you  have  dropped  it." 

"  I  suppose  she  makes  her  hump  her  savings-bank," 
cried  a  hoarse  voice,  proceeding  from  a  vendor  of  lucifer- 
matches,  whose  hardened  countenance  was  the  very  type 

288 


APPEARANCES. 


of  precocious  depravity.  This  witticism  was  received  by 
the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  assembled  mob,  whose 
cries  of  assent  and  approbation  so  completely  over- 
whelmed poor  La  Mayeux,  that  it  was  with  infinite 
difficulty  she  managed  to  reply  to  the  police  officer, 
who  presented  her  with  the  two  pieces  of  money  the 
sergeant  had  picked  up. 

u  Indeed,  sir,  that  money  does  not  belong  to  me." 

"  That's  a  lie,"  answered  the  sergeant,  approaching ; 
"  a  lady  saw  it  fall  from  your  pocket." 

"  No,  I  assure  you,  sir ;  indeed,  it  is  not  mine ! " 
answered  La  Mayeux,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"And  I  tell  you  that  is  a  falsehood,"  continued  the 
man.  "  Why,  the  respectable  lady  who  saw  it  drop  from 
you  remarked  at  the  time,  says  she, '  Sergeant,  just  look 
at  that  humpbacked  girl/  says  she,  'running  off  with 
that  great  bundle  !  Why,  she  is  in  such  a  hurry,'  says 
she,  4  that  when  her  money  tumbles  down  she  never 
turns  her  head  to  look  after  it.  There  is  something 
wrong,  depend  upon  it ! '" 

"  I  say,  Mister  Sergeant,"  cried  the  husky  voice  of  the 
match-seller,  "  keep  your  eye  open  —  she's  a  deep  'un  ! 
Just  feel  her  hump  —  that's  her  hoarding-place.  I'll  be 
bound  she's  got  all  manner  of  things  hid  there :  boots, 
cloaks,  umbrellas,  clocks,  and  watches.  Hark !  I  heard 
a  clock  strike  just  now.  I'm  hanged  if  the  sound  didn't 
come  out  of  her  hunch !  " 

Fresh  laughter,  fresh  hurrahs,  and  renewed  hallooing 
issued  from  the  merciless  crowd;  for  an  ignorant  and 
brutal  mob  rarely  shows  mercy  to  those  who,  whether 
from  their  crime  or  misfortune,  stand  the  most  in  need 
of  it.  Still  more  and  more  dense  became  the  assemblage 
of  persons,  and  one  confused  mass  soon  blocked  up  the 
street;  while  hoarse  cries,  shrill  whistlings,  and  low 
jests  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth. 

"Let's  have  a  look  —  there's  nothing  to  pay,"  said 
one. 

289 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  I  say,  don't  scrouge  —  I  paid  for  my  place,"  cried 
another. 

"  Make  the  woman  stand  up  on  something,  that  we 
can  all  see,"  shouted  a  third. 

"  Ah,  do,"  chimed  in  a  fourth ;  "  my  feet  are  getting 
stamped  on,  and  no  one  will  pay  me  for  that,  I  ex- 
pect." 

"  Show  her  up,  or  return  everybody  their  money." 

"  Our  money  or  our  places,"  bawled  another. 

"Let's  have  a  look  at  her.  Show  her  up,  alive  or 
dead,"  vociferated  another  wit. 

While,  at  each  fresh  sound,  the  trembling  object  of 
their  mirth  seemed  ready  to  sink  into  the  earth. 

^  Let  the  reader  but  picture  to  himself  this  unfortunate 
girl,  whose  disposition  and  heart  were  so  nobly,  yet  deli- 
cately, attuned  to  every  good  and  gentle  impulse,  whose 
nature  was  at  once  so  timid  and  sensitive,  constrained 
to  hear  these  coarse  jests,  and  to  listen  to  the  uproar- 
ious mirth  of  the  rabble  by  whom  she  was  hemmed  in, 
standing  in  the  midst  of  the  pitiless  crowd,  alone 
and  unprotected;  for  the  police  sergeant,  who  stood 
beside  her,  was  far  from  seeking  to  abate  her  misery 
by  his  interposition,  and  yet  entirely  ignorant  of  the 
cause  of  her  present  degradation,  and  unable  to 
comprehend  the  nature  of  the  charge  which  led 
to  it. 

She  was  not  however,  allowed  long  to  remain  in 
doubt;  for  the  police  officer,  seizing  the  bundle  she 
had  picked  up,  and  was  holding  in  her  trembling  arms, 
roughly  inquired : 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ? " 

"  Sir,  it  is  only  —  something  —  I  was  going  —  " 

And  in  her  extreme  terror  the  words  died  away  on 
the  unfortunate  girl's  lips,  and  she  found  it  impossible  to 
utter  another  sound. 

"  Is  that  all  the  answer  you  can  make  ?  "  said  the 
officer.    "Well,  then,  you  have  not  much  to  say  for 

290 


APPEARANCES. 


yourself.  Come,  look  sharp,  and  open  your  bundle. 
Let's  see  what  you  have  got!" 

So  saying,  the  police  officer,  aided  by  the  sergeant, 
took  the  bundle  from  her,  opened  it,  and  said,  while 
enumerating  the  objects  it  contained : 

"What  the  devil  have  we  got  here?  Sheets  —  a 
blanket  —  spoon  —  fork  —  and  silver  cup  !  —  a  shawl, 
too!  'Pon  my  life,  you  come  it  strong  —  you  do!  A 
wench  like  you,  a  mere  rag-picker,  to  be  carrying  articles 
of  silver  about  with  you !  Well,  you  must  be  an  old 
hand  at  it,  to  venture  in  daylight,  too ! " 

"These  things  are  not  yours,  you  say?"  said  the 
sergeant. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  who  felt  her  strength 
fast  failing  her ;  "  but  I  —  " 

"  Ah,  you  hardened  little  humpback  !  Why,  you  steal 
things  larger  than  yourself !  " 

"  Steal ! "  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  clasping  her  hands 
with  horror,  and  understanding  at  once  the  position  in 
which  she  stood  ;  "  steal !    Me  steal !  " 

"  Here,  guard,  guard  !"  cried  several  voices  at  once. 

"  Here,  my  jack-a-dandies  !  " 

"  This  way,  my  tourlourous  !  " 

"  Now,  my  fire-eaters  !  " 

"  Room  for  the  twenty-third  dromedaries,  —  that  fine 
regiment,  that  fight  as  well  in  their  sleep  as  when  they 
are  awake ! " 

In  the  midst  of  these  witticisms  and  loud-approving 
laughs,  two  soldiers  and  a  corporal,  with  some  difficulty, 
approached.  Nothing  could  be  discerned  of  them,  in  the ' 
midst  of  the  dense  mass  through  which  they  were  obliged 
to  force  their  way,  but  the  glittering  of  their  bayonets 
and  muskets. 

A  messenger  had  been  despatched  to  the  nearest 
guard-house,  to  report  the  really  formidable  obstruction 
so  large  an  assemblage  of  persons  caused  in  the  public 
streets. 

291 


THE  WAXDERIXG  JEW. 


••  Now,  then,  here  is  the  guard,"  said  the  police  officer, 
seizing  La  Mayeux  by  the  arm ;  "  so  march  on,  humpy, 
to  the  guard-house  !  " 

"Oh,  sir,"  cried  the  poor  girl,  half  choked  by  her 
sobs,  clasping  her  hands  in  terror,  and  falling  on  her 
knees  in  the  wet  and  snow,  which  covered  the  pavement ; 
"oh,  sir,  mercy,  mercy  !  Only  let  me  tell  you,  let  me 
explain  to  you  —  " 

"  You  can  explain  as  much  as  you  like  at  the  guard- 
house.   March,  I  say  !  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  have  not  stolen  anything  —  indeed,  indeed, 
sir.  I  have  not ! "  cried  La  Mayeux,  in  a  tone  of  distrac- 
tion. "  Pray  take  pity  on  me  !  Do  not  allow  me  to  be 
led  away  like  a  thief,  before  all  these  people !  Oh, 
mercy,  —  for  Heaven's  sake,  spare  me  !  " 

"  I  tell  you  you  can  say  all  you've  got  to  say  after  you 
reach  the  guard-house.  The  street  is  quite  blocked  up. 
Xow,  do  you  choose  to  move  on,  or  don't  you  ?  Which 
is  it  to  be?" 

And,  so  saying,  he  took  the  wretched  girl  by  both  her 
hands,  and  in  a  maimer  forced  her  from  her  kneeling 
attitude,  and  compelled  her  to  stand  up. 

At  this  moment  the  corporal  and  his  two  men,  having 
succeeded  in  penetrating  the  crowd,  approached  the 
sergeant. 

Corporal,"  said  the  latter,  "  conduct  this  girl  to  the 
guard-house.    I  am  a  police  officer." 

"  Oh,  gentlemen,  gentlemen  —  mercy,  mercy  !  "  said 
La  Mayeux,  clasping  her  hands,  and  weeping  bitterly ; 
"  don't  take  me  away  before  you  have  allowed  me  to  ex- 
plain to  you.  I  am  no  thief  —  God  knows  I  have  stolen 
nothing  !  Let  me  tell  you  how  I  came  by  these  things  ;  it 
was  to  serve  another  person.    Oh,  let  me  tell  you  how  — " 

"  I  say  again  that  you  can  enter  upon  your  explana- 
tions after  you  arrive  at  the  guard-house.  Come,"  added 
the  sergeant,  "  if  vou  won't  walk,  they  must  drag  you  — 
that's  all." 

292 


APPEARANCES. 


It  is  impossible  to  paint  this  disgraceful  and  fearful 
scene.  ^  Weak,  exhausted,  and  overcome  by  terror,  the 
poor  girl  was  led  away  by  the  soldiers,  her  knees  totter- 
ing under  her ;  so  that  it  became  necessary  for  the  ser- 
geant and  police  officer  to  support  her  between  them ; 
and  she,  poor  sinking  creature,  finding  each  step  she 
took  too  much  for  her  worn-out  strength,  mechanically 
accepted  the  assistance  they  proffered. 

As  the  procession  moved  on,  fresh  yells  and  cries  burst 
forth  from  the  multitude. 

Half  dragged,  half  supported  by  these  men,  the  unfor- 
tunate Mayeux  was  led  along ;  and  so,  beneath  the  hazy 
sky,  m  the  midst  of  the  muddy  streets,  hemmed  in  on 
each  side  by  the  dark,  ponderous  dwellings  which  formed 
the  boundary,  this  swarming  and  revolting  mass  (recall- 
ing, as  it  did,  the  wildest  images  of  Callot  or  Goya)  moved 
on.  Children  in  rags,  drunken  men  and  women,  with 
Hushed  and  soiled  countenances,  pushed  eagerly  against 
each  other,  — strove,  struggled,  even  to  being  trampled 
under  foot,  while  they  followed,  hissing,  groaning,  and 
deriding  the  half-dead  creature,  dragged  along  — the 
victim  of  an  infamous  error. 

An  error  !  Well  may  one  shudder  at  the  recollection 
ot  how  frequently  such  scenes  have  been,  and  mav  still 
again  be,  enacted  from  similar  mistakes,  founded  simply 
on  the  outward  appearance  of  want  and  misery  exhibited 
by  the  party  suspected,  or  indeed  from  no  other  cause  than 
an  indistinct  information ! 

For  ourselves,  we  shall  long  remember  the  fate  of  the 
unfortunate  girl,  who,  having  been  arrested  upon  a  wrong 
and  disreputable  charge,  contrived  to  escape  from  the 
persons  who  were  leading  her  to  prison,  and,  rushing  to 
the  top  of  a  house,  threw  herself,  while  under  the  influ- 
ence of  despair,  from  a  window,  and  dashed  out  her  brains 
on  the  pavement. 

After  the  abominable,  fabrications  of  which  the  poor 

293 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Mayeux  was  the  victim,  Madame  Grivois  returned  with 
all  haste  to  the  Rue  Brise-Miche.  She  hurried  up  the 
stairs  till  she  reached  the  fourth  landing-place,  and  opened 
the  door  of  Franchise's  apartment.  Then  what  a  sight 
met  her  eyes,  —  Dagobert,  surrounded  by  his  wife  and 
the  young  orphans ! 


294 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THE  CONVENT. 


Let  us  in  two  words  explain  the  cause  of  Dagobert's 
presence.  & 

His  countenance  bore  so  fully  the  impress  of  military 
frankness  that  the  director  of  the  coach-office  was  con- 
tent with  his  word  to  return  and  pay  his  fare,  but  the 
soldier  had  obstinately  insisted  on  staying  in  pawn,  as  he 
called  it,  until  his  wife  had  answered  his  letter ;  and  then 
on  the  return  of  the  messenger,  who  told  him  that  the 
money  required  would  be  forthcoming  shortly,  Dagobert, 
feeling  his  scruples  satisfied,  ran  hastily  home. 

We  may,  therefore,  imagine  the  surprise  of  Madame 
Grivois  when  on  entering  the  apartment,  she  saw  Dago- 
bert  (whom  she  easily  recognised  by  the  description  she 
had  heard  of  him)  with  his  wife  and  the  orphans 

The  anxiety  of  Franchise  at  the  sight  of  Madame 
Grivois  was  equally  great. 

i  ^T/ni  ?lanche  had  told  Dagobert's  wife  that  a 
lady  had  called  during  her  absence,  on  a  very  important 
affair,  and,  instructed  as  she  had  been  by  her  confessor, 
Franchise  could  not  doubt  but  that  this  lady  was  charged 
to  conduct  Rose  and  Blanche  to  a  religious  house. 

Her  agony  was  excessive,  for,  although  resolved  on 
following  the  commands  of  the  Abbe  Dubois,  she  was 
afraid  that  a  word  dropped  by  Madame  Grivois  might 
awaken  Dagobert's  suspicions,  and  then  all  hope  was 
lost,    inen  the  orphans  would  remain  for  ever  in  a  state 

295 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


of  ignorance  and  mortal  sin,  for  which  she  felt  herself 
responsible. 

Dagobert,  who  was  clasping  the  hands  of  Rose  and 
Blanche  in  his  own,  rose  when  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier's  confidential  attendant  entered,  and  cast  an  in- 
quiring look  on  Francoise. 

The  moment  was  critical  —  decisive.  But  Madame 
Grivois  had  profited  much  by  the  examples  of  the  Prin- 
cesse  de  Saint-Dizier,  and  so  at  once  making  up  her  mind, 
she  turned  to  account  the  haste  with  which  she  had 
ascended  the  four  pairs  of  stairs,  after  her  scandalous 
denunciation  against  La  Mayeux  ;  and  the  annoyance 
which  the  sight  of  Dagobert  had  caused  her,  giving  to 
her  features  an  expression  of  great  disquietude  and  cha- 
grin, she  exclaimed,  in  a  stifled  voice,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  which  she  seemed  to  employ  in  calming  her  agi- 
tation and  collecting  her  thoughts: 

"  Ah,  madame,  I  have  just  seen  such  a  terrible  thing 
—  excuse  my  agitation,  but  really  I  was  deeply  pained !  " 

"  Oh,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  replied  Francoise,  in  a 
tremulous  voice,  and  fearing  the  want  of  tact  on  the 
part  of  Madame  Grivois. 

"  I  came  here  a  short  time  since,"  resumed  that  lady, 
"  to  speak  to  you  on  a  very  important  affair,  and  whilst  I 
was  waiting  for  you,  a  young  deformed  workwoman  was 
putting  up  a  quantity  of  things  in  a  bundle." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt,"  said  Francoise,  "  it  was  La  Mayeux, 
that  excellent,  worthy  creature." 

"  I  should  think  so,  madame ;  but  listen  to  what  hap- 
pened. Seeing  that  you  did  not  return,  I  resolved  on 
taking  a  turn  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  going  down- 
stairs, I  went  to  the  Rue  St.  Merry  —  ah,  madame  !  — " 

"  Well,"  said  Dagobert,  "  what  happened  ? " 

"  I  saw  a  mob  —  I  asked  the  cause,  and  they  told  me 
that  a  sergent-de-ville  had  just  apprehended  a  young  girl 
as  a  thief,  because  they  had  surprised  her  carrying  off  a 
bundle  containing  different  objects  which  appeared  not 

296 


THE  CONVENT. 


to  belong  to  her.  I  went  up,  and  what  did  I  see  ?  The 
young  work-girl  whom  an  instant  before  I  had  left  here." 

"  Ah,  poor  child,"  exclaimed  Francoise,  turning  pale, 
and  clasping  her  hands  in  alarm  ;  "  what  a  misfortune  !  " 

"What,  then,"  asked  Dagobert  of  his  wife,  "was  in 
this  bundle?" 

.  "  Well,  I  must  tell  you ;  being  short  of  money,  I  had 
begged  poor  Mayeux  to  take,  as  quickly  as  possible,  to 
the  Mont  de  Pie^  the  different  objects  of  which  we  did 
not  stand  in  immediate  need." 

"And  they  have  supposed  that  she  stole  them,"  ex- 
claimed Dagobert,  "  she,  the  honestest  girl  in  the  world ! 
What  a  shame !  But,  madame,  you  should  have  inter- 
fered, and  said  that  you  knew  her !  " 

"  I  did  attempt  to  do  so,  sir ;  but,  unfortunately,  they 
would  not  listen  to  me.  The  crowd  increased  every 
moment,  —  the  guard  came  up  and  took  her  off." 

"  It  will  kill  her,  gentle  and  timid  thing  as  she  is ! " 
exclaimed  Francoise. 

"Ah,  the  good  Mayeux,  she  who  was  so  kind  and 
thoughtful ! "  said  Blanche,  turning  to  her  sister,  with 
tears  starting  to  her  eyes. 

"Unable  myself  to  do  anything  for  her,"  replied 
Madame  Grivois,  "I  made  all  the  haste  I  could  to  run 
here  and  tell  you  of  this  mistake,  which  I  hope  may  soon 
be  rectified ;  nil  that  is  requisite  is  for  some  one  to  go  as 
quickly  as  possible  to  bear  evidence  for  the  young  girl." 

At  these  words  Dagobert  took  up  his  hat  quickly,  and, 
turning  to  Madame  Grivois,  said,  in  a  blunt  tone : 

"  Oh,  madame,  you  should  have  begun  by  saying  that. 
Do  you  know  where  the  poor  girl  is  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir ;  but  there  are  still  in  the  street 
so  many  people,  and  such  a  disturbance,  that  if  you  have 
the  kindness  to  go  down  directly  and  make  inquiries 
you  will  easily  learn." 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  <  have  the  kindness  ? ' 
Poor  child  !  "  said  Dagobert,  "  apprehended  as  a  thief  —  it 

297 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


is  horrible  !    I  will  go  to  the  commissary  of  police  in  the 

quarter,  or  to  the  guard-house,  and  I  will  find  her  

they  shall  give  her  up,  and  I  will  bring  her  here." 

So  saying  Dagobert  went  out  very  quickly. 

Franchise,  assured  as  to  the  fate  of  La  Mayeux,  re- 
turned thanks  to  the  Lord  for  having,  thanks  to  this 
event,  taken  her  husband  Out,  as  his  presence  at  this 
moment  would  have  embarrassed  her  seriously. 

Madame  Grivois  had  left  Monsieur  in  the  hackney- 
coach  before  she  came  up-stairs,  for  time  was  precious, 
and  giving  Francoise  a  significant  look  as  she  handed 
the  Abbe  Dubois's  letter  to  her,  she  said,  laying  emphasis 
on  each  word : 

"You  will  see  in  this  letter,  madame,  the  object  of 
my  visit  here,  which  will,  therefore,  need  no  further  ex- 
planation ;  and  I  am  delighted  at  the  opportunity  it  has 
given  me  of  forming  the  acquaintance  of  these  two 
charming  young  ladies." 

Rose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other  with  surprise. 

Franchise  trembled  as  she  took  the  letter.  It  re- 
quired all  the  urgent  and  threatening  injunctions  of  her 
confessor  to  subdue  the  last  scruples  of  the  poor  woman, 
who  shuddered  when  she  reflected  on  the  fierce  anger  of 
Dagobert.  In  her  candour,  however,  she  had  not  thought 
of  the  mode  in  which  she  should  announce  to  the  two 
young  girls  that  they  were  to  go  away  with  this  lady. 

Madame  Grivois  saw  her  embarrassment,  and,  giving 
her  an  assuring  look,  said  to  Rose,  while  Franooise,  was 
reading  her  confessor's  letter : 

"  How  delighted  your  relation  will  be  to  see  you,  my 
dear  young  lady  !  " 

"  Our  relation,  madame  ! "  said  Rose,  still  more  aston- 
ished. 

"  Yes,  certainly ;  she  learnt  of  your  arrival  here,  but 
as  she  has  been  suffering  for  a  long  time  under  a  severe 
complaint,  she  could  not  come  herself  to-day,  and  has, 
therefore,  desired  me  to  fetch  you  to  her.  Unfortu- 

298 


THE  CONVENT. 


nately,"  added  Madame  Grivois,  as  the  two  young  girls 
started  with  surprise,  "as  she  says  in  the  letter  to 
Madame  Francoise,  you  can  only  see  her  for  a  very 
short  time,  and  in  one  hour  you  will  be  back  again  here ; 
but  to-morrow,  or  next  day,  she  will  be  able  to  stir 
abroad,  and  will  come  and  have  some  talk  with  madame 
and  her  husband,  as  to  your  taking  up  your  residence 
with  her;  for  she  would  be  much  distressed  to  allow 
you  to  be  any  expense  to  two  persons  so  kind  and  good 
to  you." 

These  last  words  of  Madame  Grivois  made  a  strong 
impression  on  the  two  sisters,  inasmuch  as  they  re- 
moved their  fears  lest  they  might  in  future  become  a 
serious  cost  to  Dagobert's  family.  If  it  had  been  a  ques- 
tion of  leaving  the  house  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche  without 
the  consent  of  their  friend,  they  would  doubtless  have 
hesitated ;  but  Madame  Grivois  spoke  only  of  an  hour's 
visit,  and  they  had  no  suspicion.  Rose  said  to  Francoise  : 

"  We  may  go  and  see  our  relation  without  awaiting 
Dagobert's  coming  back  to  tell  him  of  it ;  may  we  not 
madame?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Francoise,  in  a  weak  voice ;  "  since 
you  will  return  here  directly." 

"  Now,  madame,  I  will  request  these  young  ladies  to 
accompany  me  as  quickly  as  possible,  for  I  shall  bring 
them  back  before  noon." 

"  We  are  ready,  madame,"  said  Rose. 

"Well,  young  ladies,  embrace  your  second  mother 
and  come,"  said  Madame  Grivois,  who  could  hardly 
restrain  her  disquiet,  and  trembled  lest  from  one  moment 
to  another  Dagobert  might  return. 

Rose  and  Blanche  embraced  Francoise ;  who,  pressing 
in  her  arms  the  two  charming  and  innocent  creatures 
she  was  surrendering,  could  hardly  subdue  her  tears, 
although  she  had  a  deep  conviction  that  she  was  acting 
for  their  benefit. 

"  Come,  young  ladies,"  said  Madame  Grivois,  with  an 

299 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


affable  tone,  "  make  haste ;  excuse  my  hurry,  but  it  is 
in  the  name  of  your  relation  that  I  speak." 

The  two  sisters,  after  having  tenderly  embraced  Dago- 
bert's  wife,  left  the  room  ;  and,  holding  her  by  the  hand, 
descended  the  staircase,  followed  without  their  knowing 
it  by  Killjoy,  who  walked  cautiously  after  them,  for  in 
Dagobert's  absence  the  intelligent  animal  never  left  them. 

For  the  sake  of  greater  precaution,  no  doubt,  the 
confidential  attendant  of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had 
ordered  her  coach  to  wait  a  little  way  off  the  Rue  Brise- 
Miche,  by  the  little  square  of  the  Cloister. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  orphans  and  their  conductress 
reached  the  carriage. 

"  Ah,  mistress,"  said  the  coachman,  as  he  opened  the 
door ;  "  I  don't  wish  to  affront  you,  but  you  have  a  beast 
of  a  dog  who  is  anything  but  an  agreeable  customer,  and 
since  he  has  been  in  my  coach  he  has  howled  like  a  good 
'un,  and  looks  as  if  he'd  like  to  eat  everybody  as  comes 
in  his  way." 

In  truth  Monsieur,  who  detested  being  alone,  gave 
many  lengthened  howls. 

"  Silence,  Monsieur  !  Here  I  am,  sir,"  said  Madame 
Grivois.  Then  turning  to  the  two  girls,  she  desired 
them  to  enter  the  coach. 

Rose  and  Blanche  took  their  seats.  Madame  Grivois, 
before  she  got  into  the  carriage,  gave  the  coachman  the 
address  in  a  low  tone  to  the  convent  of  Ste.  Marie, 
adding  other  instructions,  when  suddenly  the  pug,  who 
had  begun  to  growl  with  a  savage  air  when  the  two 
sisters  took  their  places  in  the  coach,  began  to  bark 
furiously. 

The  cause  of  his  rage  was  easily  explained ;  Killjoy, 
who  until  then  had  not  been  discovered,  leaped  with  a 
bound  into  the  coach. 

The  pug  enraged  at  this  audacity,  and  forgetful  of 
his  habitual  freedom,  and  excited  by  his  anger  and  bad 
temper,  jumped  at  Killjoy's  muzzle,  and  bit  him  so 

300 


THE  CONVENT. 


severely  that  the  bold  Siberian  dog,  exasperated  by  the 
pain,  threw  himself  on  Monsieur,  seized  him  by  the  neck, 
and  with  two  gripes  of  his  powerful  jaw  strangled  the 
pug,  who  was  already  half  choked  in  his  own  fat. 

All  this  passed  more  quickly  than  it  takes  to  describe 
it,  and  Rose  and  Blanche  had  not  the  time  to  do  more 
than  call  out  twice  : 

"  Down,  Killjoy !    Have  done,  sir !  " 

"  God  bless  me!"  exclaimed  Madame  Grivois,  turning 
around  at  the  noise ;  "  send  away  this  beast  of  a  dog ! 
He  will  hurt  Monsieur !  Pray,  young  ladies,  send  him 
back!  Make  him  get  down;  it  is  quite  impossible  to 
take  him  with  us  !  " 

Unconscious  of  the  extent  of  Killjoy's  misconduct, 
for  Monsieur  was  lying  inanimate  beneath  the  seat,  yet 
feeling  that  it  was  not  right  to  pay  a  first  visit  accom- 
panied by  such  a  dog,  the  sisters  gently  pushed  him  with 
their  feet,  saying,  in  an  angry  tone : 

"  Get  down,  Killjoy  !    Go  away,  sir  ! " 

The  faithful  animal  hesitated  at  first  to  obey;  sor- 
rowful and  beseechingly  he  looked  at  the  orphans  with 
an  air  of  gentle  reproach,  as  though  blaming  them  for 
thus  sending  away  their  only  defender ;  but  at  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  command,  pronounced  in  Blanche's  most 
angry  voice,  Killjoy,  with  drooping  tail,  descended  from 
the  fiacre,  feeling,  perhaps,  conscious  of  having  shown 
himself  pretty  strong  in  the  affair  with  Monsieur. 

Madame  Grivois,  who  had  her  own  reasons  for  wishing 
to  quit  that  neighbourhood  as  quickly  as  possible,  hastily 
ascended  the  carriage,  —  the  coachman  closed  the  door 
and  got  on  his  box,  —  when  the  fiacre  drove  rapidly 
away,  Madame  Grivois  prudently  drawing  down  the 
blinds  for  fear  of  any  rencontre  with  Hagobert. 

These  indispensable  precautions  taken,  she  began  to 
recollect  Monsieur,  whom  she  most  tenderly  loved  with 
all  the  exaggerated  fondness  with  which  persons  of 
warped  or  vicious  minds  are  often  apt  to  regard  animals, 

301 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


frequently  exhausting  and  lavishing  on  them  the  cares, 
the  tenderness,  and  affection  which  is  justly  the  right  of 
one's  own  species.  In  a  word,  Madame  Grivois  was 
passionately  fond  of  the  ill-contrived,  snarling,  snapping 
cur;  probably  from  some  secret  affinity  between  their 
natures.  However  that  might  be,  Madame  Grivois  and 
Monsieur  had  been  attached  friends  for  the  last  six  years, 
and  their  fondness  seemed  but  to  increase  as  time  went  on. 

We  have  dwelt  longer  than  was  perhaps  necessary 
upon  an  apparently  trifling  circumstance,  because  it  is 
frequently  from  small  causes  that  the  most  disastrous 
results  arise ;  and  because  we  are  desirous  our  readers 
should  fully  understand  the  despair,  the  rage,  the  fury, 
and  exasperation  of  this  woman  on  having  her  darling 
thus  torn  from  her,  —  a  rage  which  fell  with  deadly  fury 
on  the  heads  of  the  poor  devoted  orphan  girls. 

The  vehicle  had  rolled  on  at  a  smart  pace  for  some  few 
seconds,  when  Madame  Grivois,  who  had  taken  the  front 
seat,  called  Monsieur. 

Very  sufficient  reasons,  however,  prevented  Monsieur 
from  replying. 

«  Oh,  what,  you  are  angry,  are  you  ? "  said  Madame 
Grivois,  caressingly.  "  And  so  you  have  quarrelled ! 
Why,  it  was  not  my  fault  that  the  ugly  great  dog  got 
into  the  carriage  and  frightened  my  pet,  —  was  it  young 
ladies  ?  " 

"  Come,  come,  then !  Give  mistress  a  pretty  kiss  and 
let  us  be  friends,  there's  a  darling  ! " 

Still  the  same  determined  silence  on  the  part  of 
Monsieur. 

Rose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other  with  some 
uneasiness ;  they  knew  Killjoy's  manners  were  not  par- 
ticularly gentle  to  those  who  offended  him  ;  and  yet  even 
they  did  not  anticipate  the  severity  of  the  punishment  he 
had  this  time  inflicted. 

Madame  Grivois,  more  surprised  than  alarmed  at  find- 
ing her  affectionate  appeals  unanswered,  stooped  down  at 

302 


THE  CONVENT. 


last  to  take  him  from  his  hiding-place  under  the  seat. 
Seizing  one  of  Monsieur's  paws,  she  drew  him  out  rather 
impatiently,  saying  in  a  tone  half  serious,  half  playful : 

"  Come  out,  you  naughty  boy  !  What  will  these  young 
ladies  think  of  you  ?  " 

So  saying,  she  lifted  up  her  dear  pug,  not  a  little  aston- 
ished at  the  listlessness  and  indifference  manifested  by 
him ;  but  what  was  her  horror,  when,  upon  placing  him 
in  her  lap,  she  discovered  he  was  utterly  motionless ! 

"  Good  heavens !  "  cried  she.  "  The  poor  dear  is  in  a 
fit !  I  thought  he  would  suffer  when  he  ate  so  much  of 
that  cream  yesterday."  Then  quickly  turning  around 
she  hastily  exclaimed,  without  once  remembering  that 
the  person  she  addressed  could  not  possibly  hear  her, 
"  Coachman  !  Coachman !  Stop,  I  say."  Then  lifting 
up  the  head  of  Monsieur,  under  the  belief  of  his  having 
only  fainted,  she  perceived  with  horror  the  bleeding 
marks  of  five  or  six  huge  fangs  upon  the  fat  throat  of  her 
beloved  pug,  —  clearly  proving  the  violent  death  which 
had  torn  him  from  her.  Her  first  ideas  were  filled 
with  grief  and  despair.  "  Dead !  "  cried  she.  "  Dead  ; 
he  is  dead  and  cold  !  Gracious  heavens !  What  will 
become  of  me  without  my  darling?" 

So  saying,  she  burst  into  tears. 

The  tears  of  the  wicked  are  always  to  be  mistrusted. 
In  the  first  place,  it  takes  much  to  make  them  weep ;  and 
so  far  from  grief  expanding  or  softening,  it  inflames 
their  minds,  and  inspires  them  with  fresh  hatred  to  all 
around. 

Thus,  therefore,  when  the  first  burst  of  her  grief  and 
surprise  had  passed  away,  Madame  Grivois  gave  way 
to  a  feeling  of  deep,  deadly,  concentrated  hate  against 
the  young  girls,  who  had  been  the  involuntary  cause  of 
her  dog's  death ;  and  so  plainly  was  her  rage  and  deter- 
mination to  avenge  herself  depicted  on  the  harsh  counte- 
nance of  Madame  Grivois,  that  Rose  and  Blanche  were 
terrified  at  the  purple  and  inflamed  features  so  sternly 

303 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

fixed  on  them,  while,  with  a  voice  convulsed  with  fury 
she  exclaimed  :  J ' 

"  'Twas  your  beast  of  a  dog  killed  my  sweet  pet !  " 

"  Pray,  pray,  madame,"  cried  Rose,  «  do  not  be  an^rv 
with  us  for  it."  J 

«  Your  dog  bit  Killjoy  first,"  uttered  Blanche,  in  a 
plaintive  tone. 

The  terror  impressed  on  the  faces  of  the  two  orphans 
recalled  Madame  Grivois  to  herself,  and  brought  to  her 
recollection  the  serious  consequences  of  indulging  her 
anger  at  the  present  juncture.  Even  for  the  furtherance 
of  the  schemes  of  vengeance  she  now  meditated  it  was 
necessary  to  restrain  her  feelings,  that  she  might  avoid 
inspiring  the  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon  with  any  mis- 
trust of  or  dislike  to  her.  Unwilling  to  seem  too  easily 
pacified,  and  fearing  a  too  rapid  transition  from  anger 
to  kindness  might  excite  suspicion,  she  continued  for 
several  instants  to  contemplate  the  sisters  with  looks 
of  dire  displeasure,  then  feigning  by  degrees  to  calm 
down  her  irritated  feelings  into  a  bitter  regret.  After 
which,  Madame  Grivois,  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands  and  sighing  heavily,  affected  to  weep  with 
undiminished  sorrow. 

"  Poor  lady !  "  said  Eose,  in  a  low  tone  to  Blanche. 
"  How  she  weeps !  I  dare  say  she  was  as  fond  of  her 
dog  as  we  are  of  Killjoy." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Blanche.  "  And  remember, 
sister,  how  we  cried  when  our  poor  old  Jovial  was 
killed ! " 

After  some  minutes  Madame  Grivois  raised  her  head, 
and,  finally  drying  her  eyes,  said,  in  a  tone  of  almost 
affectionate  earnestness : 

"  Pray  excuse  me,  young  ladies,  for  thus  yielding  to 
the  first  emotions  of  grief  and  distress  at  the  loss  of  my 
poor,  dear  dog,  to  whom  I  was  most  tenderly  attached, 
and  who,  for  the  last  six  years,  has  never  quitted  me  for 
a  single  day." 

304 


THE  CONVENT. 


"  We  are  truly  grieved  for  your  misfortune,  madame," 
said  Rose ;  "  and  the  more  so  as  your  loss  is  not  to  be 
repaired  by  any  means  in  our  power." 

"  I  was  saying  just  now  to  my  sister  that  we  were  the 
more  sorry  for  you,  because  we  lost  a  dear,  faithful  old 
horse,  that  brought  us  from  Siberia ;  he  was  killed  by 
cruel  people,  and  we  shed  so  many  tears  concerning  him." 

"  Well,  my  dear  young  ladies,  don't  let  us  say  any 
more  about  it.  It  is  my  fault,  I  ought  not  to  have 
brought  him  with  me ;  but  he  was  always  so  miserable 
when  I  was  absent  from  him,  —  you  can  understand  my 
weakness  in  indulging  the  poor  fellow.  Ah,  you  may 
always  know  a  feeling  heart  by  the  conduct  shown 
towards  animals;  those  who  are  tender  towards  dumb 
things  are  sure  to  be  full  of  sympathy  and  kindness 
towards  their  fellow  creatures.  I  trust,  therefore,  that 
your  affectionate  hearts  will  pardon  .the  little  displeasure 
I  confess  I  could  not  help  feeling  at  the  first  glance  of 
my  murdered  favourite." 

"  Oh,  pray,  madame,  do  not  think  of  us ;  indeed,  all 
our  regret  arose  from  seeing  you  so  distressed." 

"  That  will  soon  pass  away,  my  dear  young  ladies  ;  and 
the  sight  of  the  joy  your  relation  will  experience  in  be- 
holding you  will  assist  in  consoling  me,  —  she  will  be  so 
naPP7?  70u  are  such  sweet  creatures;  and,  then,  the 
singular  resemblance  you  bear  each  other  increases  the 
interest  you  cannot  fail  to  inspire." 

"  You  are  too  good  to  us,  madame,"  said  Rose. 

"  Not  at  all ;  and  I  feel  certain  you  resemble  each 
other  as  much  in  disposition  as  you  do  in  countenance." 

"  Oh,  yes,  madame,"  said  Rose ;  "  how  could  it  be 
otherwise,  when,  from  the  hour  of  our  birth,  we  have 
never  been  separated  for  a  single  instant,  night  or  day  ? 
How  then,  could  we  fail  being  of  similar  natures  and 
dispositions  ? " 

"  Is  it  possible,  my  dear  young  ladies,  that  you  have 
never  been  parted  in  your  lives  ? " 

305 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Never,  madame,"  cried  the  two  sisters  at  once,  as, 
grasping  each  other's  hand,  they  exchanged  a  fond  and 
affectionate  glance. 

"  Then,  I  dare  say,  you  would  be  perfectly  miserable  if 
you  were  taken  from  each  other  ? " 

"  Oh,  but  we  never  should  be  separated,  madame,' ' 
said  Blanche,  smilingly. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Nay,  madame,  who  would  have  the  heart  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly,  my  dear  young  ladies,  none  but  very 
wicked  people  would  ever  think  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Oh,  madame,"  replied  Blanche,  with  a  look  of  inno- 
cent sweetness,  "  not  even  wicked  people  could  be  so  very 
cruel  as  that,  —  no  one  would  ever  think  of  parting  us." 

"  So  much  the  better,  my  dear  mademoiselle  ;  but  tell 
me  why  you  think  it  would  be  impossible  to  separate 
you." 

"  Because  we  should  both  die  of  grief." 
"  Yes,  our  hearts  would  break." 
"  Poor  dears  !  " 

"  Three  months  ago  we  were  thrown  into  prison ;  well, 
when  the  governor  of  the  prison,  who  was  a  very  harsh- 
looking  man,  saw  us,  he  said,  <  It  would  be  the  death  of 
these  poor  girls  to  separate  them ; '  so  he  let  us  be  to- 
gether, and  we  were  as  happy  there  as  it  is  possible  to 
be  in  prison." 

"  That  speaks  much  in  favour  of  the  goodness  of  your 
hearts,  as  well  as  of  those  who  so  fully  entered  into 
your  happiness  in  being  together." 

The  vehicle  stopped. 

The  driver  called  out  "  Now,  gate,  if  you  please !  " 

"  Ah,  here  we  are,  at  your  dear  relation's  house." 
cried  Madame  Grivois. 

The  large  entrance  gates  were  opened,  and  the  fiacre 
rolled  without  noise  over  a  large  sanded  courtyard. 

Madame  Grivois,  having  drawn  up  one  of  the  blinds, 
displayed  to  view  a  large  court,  intersected  by  a  high 

306 


THE  CONVENT. 


wall  running  completely  across,  in  the  midst  of  which 
was  a  sort  of  porch,  forming  a  small  lodge,  supported 
by  plaster  pillars.  At  the  back  of  this  porch  was  a 
small  door.  Beyond  the  wall  were  visible  the  roof  and 
pediments  of  a  large  stone  building,  which,  in  compari- 
son with  the  houses  of  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  appeared  a 
perfect  palace ;  and,  in  their  guileless  admiration,  Rose 
and  Blanche  could  not  forbear  exclaiming  : 
"  Oh,  madame,  what  a  beautiful  place !  " 
"  Oh,  the  outside  is  nothing,"  answered  Madame 
Grivois ;  «  only  wait  till  you  see  the  interior  —  then,  in- 
deed, you  will  be  surprised." 

The  coachman  opened  the  door.  What  was  the  rage 
ot  Madame  Grivois,  and  the  surprise  of  the  sisters  to 
perceive  Killjoy,  who  had  carefully  tracked  the  vehicle, 
and  stood  at  the  steps  awaiting  his  young  mistresses'" 
looking  as  though,  while  wagging  his  tail  and  erecting 
his  ears,  he  expected  not  only  to  be  pardoned  for  his 
late  violence,  but  even  praised  and  commended  for  his 
intelligence  and  fidelity. 

"  God  bless  me  !  "  exclaimed  Madame  Grivois,  whose 
anger  blazed  brightly  again  at  the  sight  of  the  author  of 
al  her  misery.  «  I  declare  this  ugly  brute  has  dared  to 
ioilow  us ! " 

"  He  is  a  downright  good  'un,  though,  missus,"  said 
the  coachman;  « he  wouldn't  wag  a  step  from  my 
horses  heels  ;  he's  been  used  to  it,  I'm  sure.  He's  a 
out-and-out  dog,  he  is.  No  two  men  could  tackle  him, 
1 11  answer  for't.    Look  here  —  here's  a  chest  for  you  '  " 

ine  mistress  of  the  defunct  Monsieur,  but  little 
pleased  with  these  eulogiums  on  his  destroyer,  so  very 
inopportunely  uttered  by.the  driver  of  the  fiacre,  turned 
disdainfully  away,  saying  to  the  orphans  : 

"  I  will  go  and  arrange  for  your  immediate  introduc- 
tion to  your  relative.  Sit  quietly  in  the  coach  till  I 
return." 

And,  hastily  proceeding  towards  the  little  gate,  Ma- 

307 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


dame  Grivois  pulled  a  bell  that  hung  there.  A  female 
wearing  a  religions  dress  appeared,  and  made  a  respect- 
ful inclination  of  the  head  to  Madame  Grivois,  who 
merely  said  to  her  : 

"  I  have  brought  the  two  young  persons  you  expected. 
The  orders  of  M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  princess  are,  that 
they  be  instantly  and  henceforward  separated  from  each 
other,  and  placed  in  different  cells,  —  the  severe  cells, 
you  understand,  good  sister,  —  the  severe  cells,  and  the 
regimen  and  treatment  bestowed  upon  the  hardened  and 
impenitent." 

"  I  will  inform  our  holy  mother,  and  all  shall  be  done 
according  to  your  commands,"  said  the  female,  bowing 
a  second  time  to  Madame  Grivois. 

"  Will  you  come  now,  my  dear  young  ladies  ? "  said 
Madame  Grivois  to  the  poor  girls,  who  were  stealthily 
caressing  Killjoy,  and,  no  longer  fearful  of  offending 
Madame  Grivois,  taking  this  opportunity  of  expressing 
their  approbation  of  his  zeal  and  attachment.  "  Come, 
mesdemoiselles,  and  you  will  be  conducted  at  once  to  the 
presence  of  your  relative.  I  will  return  in  an  hour  to 
fetch  you.    Coachman,  keep  back  the  dog !  " 

Rose  and  Blanche,  who,  on  alighting  from  the  .fiacre, 
were  solely  occupied  with  Killjoy,  had  not  observed  the 
lay  sister,  who  stood  half  concealed  behind  the  little  door. 
Thus,  therefore,  the  orphans  never  once  perceived  the 
religious  dress  worn  by  the  person  into  whose  charge 
they  were  given,  until  the  sister,  taking  a  hand  of  each 
to  assist  them  over  the  threshold,  closed  the  door  directly 
behind  them. 

Immediately  Madame  Grivois  saw  the  convent  gate 
securely  closed  upon  the  poor  girls,  she  directed  the 
coachman  to  drive  out  of  the  yard  and  await  her  at 
the  outside  of  the  gates. 

The  man  obeyed,  and  the  vehicle  disappeared. 

Killjoy,  who  had  seen  Rose  and  Blanche  enter  by  the 
little  gate,  ran  towards  it. 

308 


KILLJOY   SLOWLY  AROSE. 


THE  CONVENT. 


Madame  Grivois  called  to  the  porter  of  the  outer 
lodge,  a  tall,  robust  man  : 

"  Nicolas,  I  will  give  you  ten  francs  if  you  will  knock 
that  huge  beast  on  the  head  in  my  presence ;  there,  I 
mean  that  great  ugly  brute  crouched  down  before  that 
door." 

Nicolas  shook  his  head  as  he  surveyed  the  gigantic 
proportions  of  Killjoy,  adding  : 

"  I  tell  you  what,  madame,  knocking  such  an  animal 
as  that  on  the  head  is  sooner  talked  about  than  done." 

^  "  Well,  you  shall  have  twenty  francs,  then,  —  only  kill 
him  !    There,  just  as  he  lies.    Let  me  see  you  do  it." 

"Ah,  but  I  ought  to  have  a  gun.  I  have  nothing 
indoors  but  a  crowbar." 

"  That  will  do.  One  good  blow,  and  you  will  knock 
his  brains  out !  " 

"Well,  madame,  I'll  try,  at  any  rate;  but  I  don't 
think  it's  to  be  done." 

So  saying,  Nicolas  went  in  search  of  his  weapon. 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  but  strength  enough !  "  said  Madame 
Grivois. 

The  porter,  armed  with  his  crowbar,  returned,  and 
approached  Killjoy  with  slow  and  treacherous  steps, 
while  the  dog  still  kept  his  position  before  the  gate. 

"  Here,  old  boy  !  Here,  here,  my  dog !  Come  to  me, 
my  fine  fellow ! "  cried  Nicolas,  slapping  his  thigh  with 
his  left  hand,  while  with  his  right  he  held  the  bar  of 
iron  concealed  behind  himself. 

Killjoy  slowly  arose,  examined  Nicolas  with  close 
attention;  then,  doubtless  suspecting  that  the  porter 
devised  some  mischief  against  him,  he  made  one  spring, 
walked  coolly  around  the  enemy,  and,  as  though  per- 
ceiving while  despising  the  intended  scheme,  he  retired 
to  a  distance  that  precluded  all  danger  of  an  attack. 

"  Ah,  he  smells  a  rat !  "  said  Nicolas.  "  The  beggar 
suspects  something.  It  is  no  use  trying  of  him;  he 
won't  let  anybody  come  anigh." 

309 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  You  are  an  awkward  fellow,  —  that's  all  T  can  say" 
cried  Madame  Grivois,  in  a  rage.  "There,"  said  she, 
throwing  a  five-franc  piece  towards  the  man,  "  you  can 
drive  the  beast  away,  I  suppose,  if  you  are  afraid  of 
doing  more ! " 

"  Perhaps  I  can,"  answered  the  porter  ;  «  leastways 
it  won't  be  so  dangerous  as  trying  to  kill  him." 

Killjoy,  therefore,  evidently  aware  of  the  inutility  of 
an  open  war  on  his  part,  quitted  the  court  and  returned 
into  the  street ;  but,  once  there,  and  feeling  himself  in  a 
manner  on  neutral  ground,  no  attempts  of  Nicolas  could 
drive  him  farther  from  the  gates  than  was  requisite  to 
keep  beyond  reach  of  the  crowbar. 

When,  therefore,  Madame  Grivois,  pale  with  baffled 
rage,  ascended  the  fiacre,  in  which  were  deposited  the 
inanimate  remains  of  Monsieur,  she  beheld,  with  equal 
spite  and  anger,  Killjoy  comfortably  stretched  out  on  the 
pavement  a  few  steps  from  the  exterior  entrance  to 
the  convent. 

Nicolas,  seeing  the  utter  uselessness  of  any  further 
attempts  to  dislodge  him,  contented  himself  with  retiring 
and  closing  the  gates. 

The  Siberian  dog,  with  that  intelligence  peculiar  to  his 
species,  confident  of  finding  his  way  back  to  the  Rue 
Brise-Miche,  quietly  awaited  the  return  of  the  orphans 
from  their  visit. 

The  sisters  now  found  themselves  enclosed  within  the 
walls  of  the  convent  of  Ste.  Marie,  which,  as  the  reader 
has  been  already  told,  closely  adjoined  the  private  mad- 
house in  which  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  was  confined. 

We  shall  now  conduct  the  reader  to  the  apartment  of 
Dagobert's  wife,  who  sat  waiting  with  painful  anxiety  for 
the  moment  of  her  husband's  return,  when  the  awful 
question  would  be  put  as  to  what  had  become  of  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon. 


310 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR. 

Scarcely  had  the  orphans  quitted  the  Rue  Brise-Miche, 
than  Frangoise,  throwing  herself  on  her  knees,  began 
praying  fervently,  while  the  tears  she  had  hitherto 
restrained  flowed  abundantly  ;  for,  spite  of  her  entire 
conviction  of  her  merely  discharging  a  religious  duty 
in  thus  surrendering  the  sisters  to  other  hands,  she 
could  not  divest  herself  of  excessive  alarm  at  the 
thoughts  of  her  husband's  return.  However  blinded 
by  excessive  zeal,  the  poor  woman  could  not  conceal 
from  herself  that  Dagobert  had  just  reason  for  com- 
plaint, even  anger  against  her;  and,  with  his  mind 
ruffled  and  disturbed  by  the  grievous  blow  he  would 
sustain  when  he  discovered  the  part  she  had  acted, 
she  had  to  inflict  a  second  wound,  by  informing  him 
of  Agricola's  arrest,  —  a  circumstance  Dagobert  was  as 
yet  ignorant  of. 

At  each  fresh  sound  on  the  staircase  Frangoise  lis- 
tened eagerly,  trembling  violently  as  she  did  so ;  then 
resumed  her  devotions  with  redoubled  fervour,  as  though 
supplicating  the  Almighty  to  give  her  strength  to  endure 
the  fiery  ordeal  through  which,  in  the  discharge  of  her 
religious  duties,  she  had  to  pass. 

At  length  a  heavy  foot  was  heard  on  the  landing-place, 
and  recognising  this  time  the  step  of  her  husband,  she 
precipitately  arose,  hastily  dried  her  eyes,  and,  to  give 
herself  an  appearance  of  composure,  sat  down  to  her 
work,  feigning  to  be  occupied  in  making  one  of  the 

311 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


coarse  gray  bags  that  lay  upon  the  table ;  but  her 
trembling  fingers  were  scarcely  equal  to  holding  the 
needle,  much  less  employing  it. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  door  opened  and  Da^obert 
appeared. 

The  rough  features  of  the  old  man  wore  an  expression 
at  once  severe  and  sad ;  he  threw  his  hat  down  impetu- 
ously on  the  table,  as  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and, 
owing  to  the  preoccupation  of  his  mind,  not  immediately 
observing  the  absence  of  the  two  orphans. 

"  Poor  child  !  "  said  he,  at  length  ;  « it  is  really  dread- 
ful to  think  of." 

"  Have  you  seen  La  Mayeux  ?  Have  you  requested 
she  may  be  given  up  to  you?"  asked  Francoise,  forget- 
ting for  a  moment  her  own  miseries  and  apprehensions. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  have  seen  her,  but  in  such  a  condition 
as  would  move  a  stone  to  pity.  I  have  claimed  her,  too, 
and  not  without  speaking  a  bit  of  my  mind,  I  can  tell 
you.    However,  they  said,  before  she  could  be  released, 

the  commissary  must  come  here  to  take  your  "  and 

here  Dagobert,  casting  a  troubled  look  around  the  room, 
suddenly  broke  off  in  his  narrative,  by  exclaiming  : 

"  Wife,  where  are  the  children  ?  " 

A  cold  shudder  passed  over  Franchise's  frame,  her 

tongue  seemed  frozen  to  her  lips.  At  length  she  man- 
aged to  utter  in  a  feeble  voice,  "Hear  husband,  I  —  " 
she  could  get  no  farther. 

"  Answer  me  !  Where  are  Rose  and  Blanche  ?  Where 
are  my  children  ?    I  do  not  see  Killjoy,  either." 

"  Pray  do  not  be  angry  !  " 

"Come,  come,"  said  Hagobert,  somewhat  roughly; 
"  I  see  how  it  is :  you  have  permitted  them  to  go  out 
with  some  friend  or  neighbour,  but  why  did  you  not 
accompany  them  yourself,  or  ask  them  to  wait  for  me  if 
they  wished  for  a  little  change  ?  Poor  dears  !  It  is  quite 
natural  they  should  long  to  take  a  walk,  for  this  is  but  a 
dull  place  for  young  creatures  like  them,  that  have  never 

312 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR. 


been  used  to  be  cooped  up  like  you  have.  Still,  I  wonder 
they  went  without  waiting  to  hear  further  news  con- 
cerning that  poor  girl  La  Mayeux,  for  their  hearts 
are  as  tender,  and  as  full  of  love  and  pity,  as  those  of 
angels.  But  what  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ? "  contin- 
ued the  soldier,  closely  examining  Franchise's  counte- 
nance;  "why,  wife,  you  are  as  pale  as  death.  What 
ails  you  ?  Are  you  ill  or  in  pain  ?"  So  saying,  Dago- 
bert  affectionately  took  the  thin,  feeble  hands  of  Fran- 
coise between  his  own,  while  Francoise,  wounded  deeply 
by  his  unsuspecting  kindness  and  evident  fears  for  her 
health,  bent  her  head,  and  gratefully  kissed  her  husband's 
large,  horny  fingers,  while  scalding  tears  plentifully  be- 
dewed them. 

The  old  soldier,  becoming  momentarily  more  and  more 
uneasy,  exclaimed,  "What  brings  these  tears  to  your 
eyes,  my  poor  wife  ?  Come,  — why  do  you  not  answer 
me  ?  Tell  me  what  it  is  that  grieves  you  so.  Was  it 
because  I  spoke  so  abruptly  when  I  found  fault  with  your 
letting  the  dear  children  go  out  with  your  neighbour  ? 
Why,  now,  look  here ;  you  see  their  poor  mother  gave 
them  into  my  charge  as  she  was  dying ;  and  you  under- 
stand, don't  you,  that  such  a  thing  as  that  is  as  sacred 
as  one's  life,  or  soul  either  ?  So,  you  see,  I  am  always 
like  an  old  hen  fluttering  about  over  my  chickens," 
added  he,  trying  to  be  facetious,  that  he  might  enliven 
Francoise. 

"  And  you  are  quite  right  to  love  them  as  you  do." 

"  Come,  now,  cheer  up,  wife ;  try  to  forget  what  I 
said ;  why,  you  know,  if  I  have  a  rough  voice,  I  have  not 
a  rough  heart,  and  since,  of  course,  the  person  they  have 
gone  out  with  is  a  friend  you  can  trust  with  confidence, 
why,  there  is  not  so  much  harm  done;  but,  for  the 
future,  my  good  Franchise,  you  must  never  do  these 
things  without  first  consulting  me.  I  suppose  the  chil- 
dren asked  you  to  allow  them  to  take  a  walk  with 
-Killjoy  ?" 


313 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


«  No,  husband,  I  —  " 

"  No  !  Who  is  the  person  to  whom  you  have  entrusted 
them  ?  Where  has  she  gone  with  them,  and  when  will 
she  bring  them  back  ?  " 

"I — know  not,"  murmured  Francoise,  in  a  stifled 
voice. 

"  You  know  not  ?  "  cried  Dagobert,  deeply  irritated  ; 
then,  restraining  himself,  he  answered,  in  a  tone  of 
friendly  reproach,  "  you  do  not  know  ?  Could  you  not, 
then,  have  fixed  some  precise  period  for  their  return,  or 
rather  not  have  entrusted  them  to  any  hands  but  your 
own  ?  The  children,  no  doubt,  importuned  you,  till  you, 
from  over  good  nature,  gave  them  leave  to  go  out ;  but 
when  they  knew  that  I  should  be  back  in  a  very  few 
minutes,  why  did  they  not  wait  for  me,  eh,  Francoise  ? 
I  ask  you  why  did  they  not  wait  for  me  ?  Answer  me, 
will  you?  Upon  my  soul,"  cried  Dagobert,  stamping 
with  rage  he  could  no  longer  restrain,  "  you  are  enough 
to  make  a  saint  swear.    Will  you  answer,  or  no  ?  " 

The  courage  of  the  unfortunate  woman  was  utterly 
exhausted ;  these  earnest  and  reiterated  questions,  which 
must  end  in  eliciting  the  full  truth,  made  her  suffer  a 
thousand  sharp  though  slow  agonies  ;  she  even  preferred 
coming  to  the  worst  at  once,  and  determined,  like  a 
humble  and  devoted  victim,  to  bear  the  full  weight  of 
her  husband's  wrath,  in  pursuance  of  the  promise  she 
had  so  blindly  sworn  to  keep  before  her  confessor  and 
her  God. 

Too  feeble  to  rise,  she  bent  her  head,  and,  letting  an 
arm  fall  at  each  side  of  the  chair,  she  said,  in  a  tone  of 
the  deepest  distress : 

"  Do  what  you  will  with  me,  but  ask  me  no  further 
questions  respecting  the  children,  because  I  cannot 
answer  them." 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  at  the  soldier's  feet,  he 
could  scarcely  have  received  a  more  violent  or  severe 
shock.    A  deadly  paleness  succeeded  to  the  angry  suf- 

314 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR. 


fusion  his  countenance  had  lately  worn,  a  cold,  clammy, 
dew  stood  upon  his  bald  forehead,  and  with  fixed,  stupe- 
fied gaze  he  remained  as  though  riveted  to  the  spot, 
petrified,  speechless  with  horror. 

Then,  as  though  by  some  strong  mental  effort,  shaking 
off  this  momentary  paralysation  of  his  faculties,  the 
soldier,  with  terrible  energy,  seized  his  wife  by  the 
shoulders,  and  lifting  her  as  easily  as  though  she  had 
been  an  infant,  he  placed  her  standing  upright  before 
him,  and,  stooping  towards  her,  he  vociferated  in  a  voice 
at  once  terrifying  and  desperate : 

"  The  children !  I  insist  upon  knowing  what  you 
have  done  with  them  !  " 

"  Mercy,  —  mercy  ! "  uttered  Franchise,  in  an  expiring 
tone. 

"  Where  are  the  children  ?  "  continued  Dagobert,  vio- 
lently shaking  the  poor,  weak,  half  fainting  woman,  with 
his  huge,  powerful  hands,  repeatedly  exclaiming  in  ac- 
cents of  thunder,  "  Will  you  answer  me  ?  I  demand  to 
know  what  has  become  of  my  children  ! " 

"  Either  kill  me  or  pardon  me,  for  I  cannot  —  I  dare 
not  answer !  "  cried  the  unhappy  creature,  with  that 
pertinacious  obstinacy  peculiar  to  weak  and  timid  char- 
acters, when  once  they  take  up  what  they  believe  a  right 
and  praiseworthy  line  of  action. 

"Wretched  woman  !  "  cried  the  soldier,  and,  mad  with 
rage,  grief,  and  despair,  he  lifted  up  his  wife,  as  though 
he  intended  to  dash  her  on  the  floor  ;  but  the  heart  of 
the  brave  soldier  was  too  good  —  too  noble  to  be  capable 
of  so  cowardly  an  act ;  and  as  this  burst  of  fury  sub- 
sided, he  removed  his  grasp  from  the  terrified  being  his 
iron  fingers  might  have  annihilated ;  while  Franchise, 
utterly  exhausted,  fell  upon  her  knees,  clasped  her 
hands,  and,  by  the  faint  motion  of  her  lips,  was  evi- 
dently engaged  in  deep  and  fervent  prayer. 

A  momentary  vertigo,  a  species  of  confusion  and 
bewilderment,  took  possession  of  Dagobert's  brain ;  all 

315 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

that  had  occurred  had  been  so  sudden,  so  incomprehen- 
sible, that  it  required  some  time  to  recover  so  astounding: 
a  blow,  and  to  feel  convinced  that  one  so  good  so 
amiable  as  his  wife,  she  whose  whole  life  had  been  one 
unbroken  series  of  devoted  love  and  care  for  others 
could  possibly,  knowing,  as  she  did,  the  important  charge 
he  fulfilled  m  guarding  the  daughters  of  General  Simon 
and  how  completely  his  own  happiness  and  honour  were' 
involved  m  their  fate,  have  uttered  such  fearful  words 
as  those  he  had  just  heard  from  her  lips,  «  Question  me 
not  concerning  them,  since  I  cannot  answer  you." 

The  strongest,  the  firmest  mind  would  have  been 
shaken  by  a  fact  so  inexplicable,  so  overwhelming;,  so 
incredible.  s' 

But  with  his  usual  strong  sense,  the  soldier  boldly 
looked  upon  the  evil,  crushing  as  it  was,  and,  as  his  self- 
possession  returned,  and  reason  resumed  its  empire,  he 
reflected  thus : 

"  My  wife  alone  can  unravel  this  fearful  affair,  this 
dark  mystery.  I  will  not  lay  my  hands  on  her,  there- 
tore,  to  injure  her  in  any  way ;  my  plan  will  be  to 
employ  every  means  I  can  adopt  to  get  at  the  truth,  and 
to  induce  her  to  tell  me  what  I  want  to  know ;  for  that 
purpose,  I  must  carefully  avoid  giving  way  to  anything 
like  impatience  or  anger,  and,  whatever  may  be  my  feel- 
ings, I  must  restrain  them." 

Thus  wisely  reflecting,  Dagobert  took  a  chair,  and, 
showing  another  to  his  wife,  who  was  still  kneeling  and 
murmuring  low  prayers,  he  said  : 

"  Sit  down  !  " 

Exhausted  and  submissive,  Francoise  obeyed. 

"  Listen  to  me,  wife,"  pursued  Dagobert,  in  a  short, 
dry,  and  unsteady  voice,  interrupted  by  continued  invol- 
untary catchings  of  the  breath,  betraying  the  impatience 
he  strove  so  hard  to  conceal.  "  Now  you  cannot  for  an 
instant  suppose  things  can  go  on  in  this  way.  You  see 
I  am  not  going  to  use  any  violence  towards  you ;  just 

316 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR. 


now  I  know  I  gave  way  to  my  first  angry  feelings  

but  —  I  shall  not  do  that  again,  and  am  very  sorry  now 
that  I  so  far  forgot  myself ;  so  lay  aside  all  fear.  But 
I  really  must  have  you  tell  me  where  the  dear  children 
are  ;  their  mother  —  their  dying  mother  entrusted  them  to 
me  ;  and,  you  must  needs  think,  I  did  not  bring  them  all 
the  way  from  Siberia  hither  for  you  to  say  to  me,  as 
you  are  doing  now, <  Don't  ask  me  any  questions,  I  cannot 
tell  you  what  I  have  done  with  them  ! '  These  words 
are  not  reasons  —  there  is  no  sense  in  them.  Suppose, 
now,  Marshal  Simon  were  to  arrive  in  a  hurry,  and 
come  to  me,  saying,  <  Well,  Dagobert,  where  are  my 
daughters  ? '  Now  what  should  I  say  to  him  in  reply  ? 
You  see  I  am  talking  quite  friendly  with  you,  not  a  bit 
put  out,  but  as  calm  and  as  cool  as  can  be.  Now  just 
put  yourself  in  my  place.  Now  what  should  you  say 
if  you  were  me  when  the  marshal  asked  you  for  his 
children,  eh  ?  But  speak  —  answer  me  —  why  the  devil 
don't  you  speak  ? "  cried  the  poor  fellow,  whose  temper 
and  patience  were  rapidly  failing  him. 
«  Alas  !  —  alas !  " 

«  Oh !  "  cried  the  soldier,  wiping  his  forehead,  whose 
veins  were  swollen  and  distended  almost  to  bursting. 
"  Oh's  and  ah's  are  no  answer  to  my  questions ;  I  ask 
you  what  am  I  to  say  to  the  marshal  when  he  inquires 
for  his  daughters  ? " 

"  Tell  him  I  am  the  guilty  person.  I  will  bear  all  his 
anger.    I  will  tell  all." 

"  What  will  you  tell  ?  " 

"  That  you  confided  to  me  the  two  dear  children,  that 
you  went  out,  and,  not  finding  them  on  your  return 
questioned  me  as  to  what  had  become  of  them,  and  that 
I  refused  to  answer  your  questions  concerning  them." 

"  And  do  you  for  one  instant  suppose  that  the  marshal 
will  be  contented  with  such  an  explanation  as  that  ? " 
said  Dagobert,  convulsively  pressing  his  clenched  fists  on 
his  knees. 

817 


THE  WANDERING  JEW., 


^  "  Unfortunately,  they  are  the  only  reasons  I  can  give 
either  to  him  or  to  you ;  though  I  were  even  stricken 
by  the  hand  of  death,  I  dare  reveal  no  more." 

As  these  last  words,  pronounced  as  they  were  with 
desperate  resignation,  sounded  in  Dagobert's  ear,  the 
old  man  sprung  from  his  seat,  his  patience  utterly 
exhausted ;  but  unwilling  to  break  out  into  fresh  acts  of 
violence  or  threats,  which  he  well  knew  would  be  alike 
powerless,  he  rose  abruptly,  threw  open  one  of  the  win- 
dows, and  exposed  his  burning  forehead  to  the  cool  fresh 
air  from  without ;  then  becoming  a  little  calmer,  he  took 
one  or  two  turns  up  and  down  the  chamber  and  returned 
to  seat  himself  beside  his  wife,  who,  with  eyes  from 
which  rained  plentiful  tears,  sat  attentively  gazing  on  a 
figure  of  Christ  crucified,  thinking  that  she,  too,  had  a 
heavy  cross  laid  on  her,  almost  beyond  her  strength  to 
bear. 

Dagobert,  with  assumed  composure,  proceeded  to  say, 
"  It  is  very  clear  from  your  manner  of  speaking,  that  at 
least  the  disappearance  of  the  children  is  not  the  effect 
of  any  sickness  or  accident?" 

"No,  no!  God  be  praised  they  are  perfectly  well; 
and  that  is  all  I  can  tell  you  ! " 

"  Did  they  go  from  here  alone  ? " 

"  I  cannot  answer  your  question." 

"  Were  they  taken  away  by  any  one  ?  " 

"  Alas,  alas !  dear  husband,  why  persist  in  putting 
questions  to  me  I  have  already  assured  you  I  cannot 
answer  ?  " 

"  Will  they  return  here  ? " 

"  I  know  not." 

Again  Dagobert  arose  for  a  second  time ;  he  found  his 
patience  failing  him,  and  once  more  he  tried  to  calm 
himself  by  pacing  the  small  chamber ;  after  a  few  turns, 
he  returned  and  seated  himself  beside  his  wife. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  you  cannot  possibly  have  any  inter- 
est in  concealing  from  me  where  these  children  are  ; 

318 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR. 


why,  then,  do  you  refuse  to  satisfy  me  as  to  what  has 
become  of  them  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  no  power  to  act  otherwise  than  I  am 
doing." 

"  I  think  you  will  alter  your  opinion  when  you  know 
one  thing,  which  circumstances  now  compel  me  to  ac- 
quaint you  with.  Attend  to  me,  then  !  "  continued  Dago- 
bert,  in  a  voice  of  deep  emotion.  " If  these  two  young 
girls  are  not  brought  back  by  the  evening  before  the 
thirteenth  of  February,  and  you  know  we  are  close  upon 
it — you  place  me  in  the  situation  of  a  man  who  has  act- 
ually robbed  and  plundered  the  daughters  of  Marshal 
Simon.  Mark  me  well!  I  say  robbed  and  plundered 
them;  yet,"  continued  the  soldier,  in  a  tone  of  such 
heartfelt  misery  and  anguish  as  struck  to  the  heart  of 
Francoise,  "  I  did  all  that  lay  in  an  honest  man's  power 
to  conduct  the  poor  things  through  their  journey,  and 
you  little  know  all  I  underwent  on  the  road ;  you  cannot 
imagine  the  care,  the  uneasiness  I  experienced ;  for,  let 
me  tell  you,  that  for  an  old  fellow  like  me  to  have  the 
sole  charge  of  two  helpless  young  creatures  like  them,  is 
such  a  weight  on  his  mind  that  nothing  but  downright 
courage  and  a  fixed  determination  to  do  his  duty  can 
help  him  through  with  it;  and  when  all  that  kept  me 
going,  and  inspired  me  with  resolution  to  bear  up  against 
whatever  might  happen,  was  the  idea  of  being  able  one 
day  to  say  to  Marshal  Simon,  6  There  are  your  daugh- 
ters ! '  "  —  the  old  soldier  could  proceed  no  further ;  to 
his  first  burst  of  fury  succeeded  the  most  affecting  grief, 
and  unable  to  bear  the  afflicting  reverse  he  had  just 
described  to  all  his  proudly  cherished  hopes  of  re- 
storing Rose  and  Blanche  to  their  father's  arms,  the  old 
veteran  sighed  as  though  his  heart  would  break,  while 
bitter  tears  coursed  rapidly  down  his  weather-beaten 
cheeks. 

At  the  sight  of  the  large  drops,  which  fell  even  on  the 
thick  gray  moustache  of  Dagobert,  Franchise  felt  her 

319 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


resolution  beginning  to  fail  her,  but  quickly  recalling  the 
solemn  promise  she  had  made  to  her  confessor,  and 
firmly  believing  that  the  more  firmness  she  displayed 
the  better  would  it  be  for  the  immortal  souls  of  the 
orphans,  she  mentally  reproached  herself  for  her  weak- 
ness, for  which  she  knew  the  Abbe  Dubois  would  also 
severely  reprehend  her.  She  contented  herself  therefore 
with  asking,  in  a  timid  voice : 

"What  did  you  mean  by  saying  just  now  that  you 
might  be  accused  of  wronging  and  plundering  these  poor 
dear  children  ? " 

"  Hearken,  then  !  "  replied  Dagobert,  passing  his  hard 
hand  across  his  eyes.  "  The  cause  of  these  young  girls 
having  travelled  so  many  thousand  miles,  and  endured 
such  hardships  on  the  road,  coming  all  the  way  hither 
from  the  remotest  parts  of  Siberia,  is  because  matters 
of  immense  interest  to  them,  perhaps  the  obtaining  a 
princely  fortune,  depend  on  their  being  in  the  Rue  Saint 
Francois,  here  in  Paris,  on  the  thirteenth  of  February. 
If  they  do  not  present  themselves,  all  chance  is  for  ever 
lost  to  them ;  and  all  through  me  —  for  I  am  responsible 
for  whatever  mistakes  or  errors  you  commit,  as  well  as 
for  all  the  dreadful  consequences  that  may  result  from 
the  ill-advised  step  you  have  this  day  taken." 

«  The  thirteenth  of  February !  Rue  Saint  Francois !  " 
said  Francoise,  regarding  her  husband  with  extreme  sur- 
prise ;  « that  is  just  like  Gabriel." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?    Like  Gabriel  ? " 

"  Yes ;  when  I  first  received  him,  the  poor  deserted 
infant  wore  around  his  neck  a  bronze  medal." 

"  A  medal  of  bronze ! "  cried  the  old  soldier,  struck 
with  astonishment.  "  Did  it  bear  these  words,  <  You  shall 
be  in  Paris,  Rue  Saint  Francois,  on  the  thirteenth  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1832  ? ' " 

"  Precisely  the  very  words !  But  how  did  you  know 
them?" 

"  Gabriel,  also ! "  said  the  soldier,  speaking  to  himself. 

320 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR. 


"And  does  Gabriel  know  of  this  medal  having  been 
found  on  him  ?  " 

"  I  mentioned  it  to  him  when  he  grew  old  enough  to 
understand  it.  There  was  also  in  a  pocket  of  his  dress 
a  case  containing  several  papers,  all  written  in  a  strange 
language ;  all  of  which  I  carried  to  my  confessor,  the 
Abbe  Dubois,  thinking  he  might  be  able  to  make  them 
out,  and  he  afterwards  told  me  the  whole  of  the  papers 
were  quite  unimportant.  Some  time  afterwards,  when  a 
charitable  person  named  Rodin  undertook  to  educate 
Gabriel,  and  to  obtain  his  admission  into  a  seminary, 
Abbe  Dubois  delivered  all  the  writings,  with  the  medal, 
into  the  hands  of  M.  Rodin,  since  which  time  I  have 
never  heard  any  mention  of  them." 

As  Francoise  spoke  of  her  confessor,  a  sudden  light 
darted  across  the  mind  of  the  soldier,  who,  however,  was 
far  from  suspecting  the  continual  plots  and  machina- 
tions which  had  for  so  long  a  period  been  working  both 
against  the  orphans  and  Gabriel. 

Dagobert,  however,  began  to  have  a  vague  and  unde- 
finable  belief  that  his  wife's  present  conduct  arose  out  of 
some  order  issued  from  the  confessional,  —  an  interfer- 
ence, the  aim  and  motive  of  which  was  beyond  his  power 
to  understand,  but  which  served  to  account,  in  a  great 
measure,  for  the  immovable  obstinacy  of  Francoise  in 
persisting  in  concealing  the  retreat  of  the  orphans. 

After  a  short  period  of  reflection,  he  abruptly  rose, 
and,  gazing  fixedly  on  his  wife,  he  said,  in  a  severe  tone : 

"  Some  priest  is  mixed  up  with  all  this." 

"  Husband,  for  heaven's  sake  —  " 

"  You  cannot,  on  your  own  account,  have  the  least 
interest  in  keeping  me  in  ignorance  of  where  the  chil- 
dren are  hid.  You  are  as  good  a  wife  as  ever  man  had. 
You  see  what  misery  I  am  suffering.  Oh,  if  you  acted 
only  by  your  own  advice,  you  would  take  pity  on  me,  you 
could  not  bear  to  see  my  wretchedness." 

"  Husband !    I  beseech  you,  cease." 

321 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  I  tell  you,"  continued  Dagobert,  «  all  tbis  speaks  of 
tbe  confessional.  You  are  sacrificing  me,  and  tbose 
poor  motherless  girls,  to  the  cold-blooded  dictates  of 
your  confessor.  But  take  care;  I  will  find  out  where 
he  lives,  and  —  bombs  and  mortars  !  —  I'll  go  and  just 
ask  him  whether  he  expects  he  or  I  am  to  be  master  in 
my  little  home,  and  if  he  refuses  to  answer,  why,  then," 
said  the  soldier,  while  fire  flashed  from  his  eye,  and  his 
whole  countenance  assumed  a  threatening  expression, « I 
will  find  a  way  to  make  him ! " 

"  Grod  of  heaven !  "  almost  shrieked  Francoise,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  with  terror,  and  shuddering  at  hearing 
such  sacrilegious  words  ;  "  a  priest  —  think  of  what  you 
are  saying  —  a  priest !  " 

"A  priest  who  introduces  discord,  treachery,  and 
wretchedness  into  a  house  is  as  unworthy  and  despica- 
ble a  creature  as  the  veriest  scoundrel  that  walks  the 
earth  and  is  equally  bound  to  account  to  me  for  all 
the  mischief  he  has  occasioned  both  to  me  and  mine. 
Therefore,  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  I  say,  tell 
me  where  are  the  children  ?  And  if  you  still  refuse,  I 
give  you  due  warning,  I  shall  go  and  demand  them  at 
the  hands  of  your  confessor.  There  is  some  piece  of 
devilish  design  going  on,  —  some  plot,  in  which  you, 
wretched  woman,  are  an  accomplice  without  knowing  it. 
Besides,  I  would  rather  have  any  one  to  quarrel  with 
than  you  ;  therefore,  your  confessor  shall  take  your  place 
and  answer  for  you." 

"  Husband,"  cried  Francoise,  in  a  firm  though  gentle 
tone,  "  you  deceive  yourself  if  you  expect  to  terrify,  by 
your  violence,  a  worthy  and  respectable  old  man,  who, 
for  twenty  years,  has  had  the  care  of  my  soul." 

"No  age  shall  protect  him  from  my  just  rage  and 
indignation." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  where  are  you  going  ?  You  terrify 
me ! " 

"I  am  going  to  your  church,  you  cannot  fail  being 

322 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR. 


known  there.  I  will  inquire  for  jour  confessor,  and 
then  we  shall  see." 

"For  God's  sake,  husband,"  exclaimed  Frangoise, 
much  alarmed,  and  interposing  herself  between  Dago- 
bert  and  the  door,  towards  which  he  was  hurrying, 
"think  of  what  you  are  exposing  yourself  to.  Mother 
of  heaven  —  insult  a  priest !  Do  you  not  know  that 
that  is  a  sin  for  which  there  is  no  absolution,  a  reserved 
case  ? " 

In  the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  Franchise  believed  these 
last  words  almost  capable  of  annihilating  the  person  they 
were  addressed  to ;  but  the  soldier,  neither  comprehend- 
ing nor  caring  for  them,  broke  away  from  the  feeble 
grasp  of  his  wife,  and  would  have  rushed  out  bareheaded 
as  he  was  —  so  great  was  his  rage  and  exasperation  — 
when  at  this  instant  the  door  opened. 

It  was  the  commissary  of  police,  followed  by  La 
Mayeux,  and  the  police  officer,  carrying  the  bundle  taken 
from  the  poor  girl. 

"Oh,  the  commissary ! "  cried  Dagobert,  recognising 
him  by  his  scarf.  «  Ah,  so  much  the  better  —  he  could 
not  have  come  more  opportunely." 


323 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE  INTERROGATORY. 

«  Madame  Franchise  Baudoin  ? "  said  the  magistrate. 

"  I  am  here,  sir,"  replied  Francoise ;  and  then  seeing 
La  Mayeux,  who,  pale  and  trembling,  dared  not  advance, 
she  stretched  out  her  arms  to  her.  "  Ah,  my  poor  girl," 
she  exclaimed,  bursting  into  tears,  "  pardon,  pardon  !  It 
is  for  us,  again,  that  you  have  suffered  this  humiliation." 

After  Dagobert's  wife  had  tenderly  embraced  the  young 
work-girl,  La  Mayeux,  turning  towards  the  commissary, 
said  to  him,  with  an  expression  of  sad  but  touching 
dignity : 

"  You  see,  sir,  I  have  not  stolen." 

"Then,  madame,"  said  the  magistrate,  addressing 
Francoise,  "the  silver  cup,  the  shawl,  and  the  sheets, 
contained  in  this  bundle  ? " 

"  Were  mine,  sir ;  and  it  was  to  render  me  a  service 
that  this  dear  girl,  the  best,  most  honest  creature  in  the 
world,  was  so  kind  as  to  undertake  to  carry  those  things 
to  the  Mont  de  PieteV' 

"  Sir,"  said  the  magistrate  to  the  police  agent,  in  a  tone 
of  severity,  «  you  have  committed  a  deplorable  error.  I 
shall  report  you,  in  order  that  you  may  be  punished. 
Go ! "  Then  addressing  himself  to  La  Mayeux,  with  an 
air  which  showed  how  much  he  was  pained,  he  added, 
"  Unfortunately,  mademoiselle,  I  can  only  express  to  you 
my  sincere  regret  for  what  has  occurred,  and,  believe 
me,  I  am  sincerely  sorry  for  all  the  distress  which  this 
shameful  mistake  has  caused  you." 

324 


THE  INTERROGATORY. 


"  I  am  sure  of  it,  sir,"  said  La  Mayeux,  "  and  I  thank 
you  very  much." 

She  then  sat  down  quite  overwhelmed,  for,  after  such 
severe  trials,  her  courage  and  strength  were  quite  ex- 
hausted. 

The  magistrate  was  about  to  withdraw,  when  Dago- 
bert,  who  for  some  minutes  had  been  lost  in  reflection, 
said,  in  a  firm  voice  : 

"  Sir,  be  so  good  as  listen  to  me,  I  have  a  deposition 
to  make." 

"  Make  it,  sir." 

«  What  I  am  about  to  say  is  very  important,  sir.  It  is 
before  you,  as  a  magistrate,  that  I  make  this  declaration, 
in  order  that  you  may  take  cognisance  of  it." 

"  It  is  as  a  magistrate,  sir,  that  I  listen  to  you." 

"I  arrived  here  two  days  since,  and  I  brought  with 
me,  from  Russia,  two  young  ladies,  who  have  been  en- 
trusted to  my  care  by  their  mother,  the  lady  of  M.  the 
Marshal  Simon." 

"  Of  Marshal  the  Due  de  Ligny  ? "  said  the  commissary, 
greatly  surprised. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Yesterday  I  left  them -here,  being  obliged 
to  go  away  on  very  urgent  business.  This  morning, 
during  my  absence,  they  have  disappeared,  and  I  am 
certain  that  I  know  the  man  who  has  removed  them." 

"  Husband  !  "  exclaimed  Francoise,  alarmed. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  your  declaration  is  of  the 
most  serious  nature,  a  disappearance  of  persons,  —  putting 
out  of  the  way  designedly  and  forcibly,  perhaps ;  but  are 
you  perfectly  sure  ? " 

"  The  young  girls  were  here  an  hour  ago,  and  I  repeat 
to  you,  sir,  that  they  were  removed,  carried  off  during 
my  absence." 

"  I  cannot  doubt  the  sincerity  of  your  declaration,  sir ; 
still  so  sudden  a  carrying  off  is  difficult  to  account  for. 
Besides,  who  has  told  you  that  these  young  ladies  will 
not  return  ?  And  whom  do  you  suspect  ?  One  word,  too, 

325 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


before  you  depose  to  so  serious  an  accusation.  Remem- 
ber that  it  is  the  magistrate  who  listens  to  you,  and 
when  I  leave  here  it  is  possible  that  justice  may  take 
this  affair  in  hand." 

"  That  is  the  very  thing  I  wish,  sir.  I  am  responsible 
for  these  young  girls  to  their  father,  who  may  arrive  at 
any  moment,  and  I  must  justify  myself." 

"  I  comprehend,  sir,  all  your  reasons ;  but  once  more, 
take  care  that  you  do  not  allow  yourself  to  be  carried 
away  by  suspicions  which  are  probably  without  founda- 
tion. Your  denunciation  once  made,  I  may  be  com- 
pelled to  act  on  the  preventive  instantly  against  the 
person  whom  you  accuse.  If  you  are,  therefore,  guilty 
of  any  mistake,  the  consequences  to  yourself  may  be 
very  distressing,  and,  not  to  go  further,"  said  the  magis- 
trate with  feeling,  and  looking  at  La  Mayeux,  "  you  see 
what  are  the  results  of  a  false  accusation." 

"  My  dear  —  you  hear  !  "  exclaimed  Francoise,  still 
more  and  more  alarmed  at  Dagobert's  resolution  with 
respect  to  the  Abbe  Dubois.  "  I  beseech  you,  do  not 
say  another  word." 

But  the  soldier,  the  more  he  reflected,  the  more  he 
was  convinced  that  the  influence  of  Franchise's  confessor 
alone  had  decided  her  on  acting  as  she  had  done  in 
keeping  silence,  and  he,  therefore,  said,  with  firmness : 

"  I  accuse  the  confessor  of  my  wife  of  being  the 
author,  or  the  accomplice,  in  carrying  off  the  daughters 
of  Marshal  Simon." 

Franchise  gave  a  deep  groan,  and  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands ;  whilst  La  Mayeux,  who  had  drawn  near  her, 
endeavoured  to  comfort  her. 

The  magistrate  had  listened  to  Dagobert's  statement 
with  deep  astonishment,  and  said  to  him,  with  much 
seriousness : 

"But,  sir,  do  not  accuse  unjustly  a  man  invested  with 
an  irreproachable  character  —  a  priest.  It  is  a  priest, 
sir,  who  is  here  charged,  and  I  warn  you  that  you 

326 


THE  INTERROGATORY. 


ought  to  reflect,  —  this  is  the  more  serious,  too,  at  your 
age,  when  any  accusation  made  groundlessly  would  be 
inexcusable." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Dagobert,  impatiently,  "  at  my  age 
one  has  common  sense.  The  facts  are  these  :  My  wife 
is  the  best,  the  most  conscientious  of  women.  Ask  her 
character  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  you  will  hear  that. 
But  she  is  a  devotee,  and  for  twenty  years  has  seen 
through  no  eyes  but  those  of  her  confessor.  She  adores 
her  son,  and  loves  me  well,  too  ;  but  above  my  son  and 
myself  has  always  been  placed  the  confessor." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  commissary,  «  these  family  details  " 

"  Are  indispensable,  as  you  will  see.  I  went,  not  an 
hour  ago,  to  rescue  poor  La  Mayeux,  and  on  my  return 
the  young  girls  had  disappeared.  I  ask  my  wife,  with 
whom  I  had  left  them,  where  they  are.  She  falls  on 
her  knees,  sobbing,  and  says,  <  Do  what  you  please  to  me, 
but  do  not  ask  what  has  become  of  the  children  — I 
cannot  tell  you.'  " 

"  Is  this  true,  madame  ? "  inquired  the  commissary, 
looking  at  Francoise  with  great  surprise. 

"  Anger,  threats,  prayers,  were  useless,"  resumed  Dago- 
bert ;  «  to  all  she  has  replied,  with  the  resignation  of  a 
saint,  <  I  cannot  tell  you  anything.'  Well,  sir,  this  is 
what  I  assert,  my  wife  has  no  interest  in  the  disappear- 
ance of  these  children,  but  she  is  under  the  complete 
domination  of  her  confessor,  and  acts  by  his  direction. 
She  is  but  the  tool  —  he  is  the  guilty  hand." 

As  Dagobert  spoke,  the  commissary's  countenance 
became  more  and  more  fixed  on  Francoise,  who,  sup- 
ported by  La  Mayeux,  was  weeping  bitterly. 

After  having  reflected  for  a  moment,  the  magistrate 
advanced  a  step  towards  Franchise  and  said  : 

"Madame,  you  have  heard  what  your  husband  has 
stated  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What  have  you  to  say  in  justification  ?  " 

327 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  But,  sir,"  said  Dagobert,  « it  is  not  my  wife  that  I 
accuse.    I  do  not  mean  that    It  is  her  confessor." 

"  Sir,  you  have  made  your  complaint  to  a  magistrate, 
and  it  is  now  for  the  magistrate  to  act  as  he  thinks  best 
for  the  discovery  of  the  truth.  Once  again,  madame," 
he  resumed,  addressing  Francoise,  "  what  have  you  to 
say  in  order  to  justify  yourself  ?  " 

"  Alas,  sir,  nothing." 

"Is  it  true  that  your  husband  left  the  young  girls 
under  your  care  when  he  went  out  ?  " 
"Yes,  sir." 

"  Is  it  true  that  when  he  returned  they  were  gone  ?  " 
"Yes,  sir." 

"  Is  it  true  that,  when  he  asked  you  where  they  were, 
you  replied  that  you  could  not  tell  him  anything  about 
it  ? "  and  the  commissary  appeared  to  await  Franchise's 
reply  with  anxious  curiosity. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  simply  and  undisguisedly.  "  I 
did  reply  so  to  my  husband." 

The  magistrate  almost  started  with  the  surprise  which 
this  answer  excited. 

"What,  madame!  To  all  the  prayers  —  all  the  en- 
treaties of  your  husband,  you  have  only  given  this 
reply?  What!  Have  you  refused  to  give  him  any 
information?    That  is  hardly  probable  or  possible." 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  truth,  sir." 

"  But,  really,  madame,  what  has  become  of  the  young 
girls  who  were  entrusted  to  your  care  ? " 

"  I  can  say  nothing  about  it,  sir.  If  I  have  refused  to 
tell  my  poor  husband,  I  shall  certainly  not  tell  any  other 
person." 

"  Well,  now,  sir,  was  I  wrong  ?  "  inquired  Dagobert. 
"An  upright  and  excellent  wife,  always  full  of  good 
sense,  and  free  from  selfishness,  how  could  she  speak  in 
such  a  way !  It  is  not  natural.  I  repeat,  sir,  it  is  the 
confessor  who  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this.  Let  us  go  to 
work  with  him  instantly  and  vigorously.    We  will  dis- 

328 


THE  INTERROGATORY. 


cover  all,  and  my  poor  children  will  be  restored  to 
me." 

The  commissary  said  to  Franchise  (and  he  was  unable 
to  repress  his  emotion)  : 

"  Madame,  I  must  speak  to  you  with  severity  —  my 
duty  compels  me.  This  affair  is  so  serious  and  compli- 
cated that  I  must  necessarily  make  justice  cognisant  of 
the  facts.  You  acknowledge  that  these  young  girls  were 
entrusted  to  you,  and  you  cannot  bring  them  before  us. 
Now  listen  to  me  attentively.  If  you  refuse  to  give  me 
any  information  on  this  subject,  you  —  and  you  alone  — 
will  be  accused  with  their  disappearance ;  and  I,  to  my 
extreme  regret,  shall  be  obliged  to  apprehend  you  on 
that  charge." 

"  Me  ? "  exclaimed  Frangoise,  with  great  terror. 

"  My  wife  !  "  cried  Dagobert.  "  Never !  Once  again,  I 
tell  you,  it  is  her  confessor,  and  not  her,  whom  I  accuse. 
Apprehend  my  poor  wife  ! " 

And  he  ran  towards  her  as  if  to  shield  her  with  his 
protection. 

"  Sir,  it  is  too  late,"  said  the  commissary.  "  You  have 
made  your  deposition,  complaining  of  the  carrying  off  of 
the  two  young  girls,  and  after  the  statements  of  your 
wife  herself,  she  alone,  up  to  this  time,  is  the  only  party 
compromised  in  the  affair.  I  must  take  her  before  the 
attorney-general,  who  will  give  his  opinion  as  to  the  next 
steps  to  be  taken." 

"I  tell  you,  sir,  that  my  wife  shall  not  leave  this 
house ! "  said  Dagobert,  in  a  threatening  tone. 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  commissary,  calmly,  "  I  understand 
your  vexation,  but,  for  the  sake  of  truth,  I  conjure  you  not 
to  make  any  opposition  to  a  step  which  in  ten  minutes' 
time  it  will  be  utterly  impossible  for  you  to  prevent." 

These  words,  said  mildly  but  firmly,  recalled  the 
soldier  to  himself. 

"  But,  indeed,  indeed,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  "  it  is  not 
my  wife  that  I  accuse." 

329 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Oh,  do  not  mind  me,  my  husband,"  said  the  wife 
—  a  martyr  as  she  was,  —  with  the  resignation  of  a  saint! 
"the  Lord  will  try  me  sorely.  I  am  his  unworthy  ser- 
vant; I  must  accept  his  pleasure  with  gratitude  Let 
me  be  arrested,  if  so  it  must  be,  I  will  not  say  in  prison 

ss^r  said  here  on  the  sub^ct  °f  V 

"  But  sir,  you  see  my  poor  wife's  head  wanders,"  said 
Dagobert ;  "  you  cannot  arrest  her." 

"There  is  no  charge,  no  proof,  no  suspicion,  against 
the  other  person  whom  you  accuse,  and  his  character 
is  his  defence;  I  must  take  your  wife.  I  regret  exces- 
sively sir  added  the  commissary,  in  a  compassionate 
tone  to  have  such  a  duty  to  discharge,  and  that,  too, 
at  the  moment  when  your  son  has  been  apprehended 
which  must  —  "  ' 

"What!"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  looking  in  painful 
amazement  at  his  wife  and  La  Mayeux.  «  What  does 
he  say?    My  son  —  " 

"  What !  Did  you  not  know  it  ?  Oh,  sir,  a  thousand 
pardons!  said  the  magistrate,  deeply  grieved;  "it  is 
most  distressing  to  me  to  have  informed  you  of  this  " 

"My  son  !  "  repeated  Dagobert,  lifting  both  his  hands 
to  his  brow.    "  My  son  arrested  !  " 

"  For  a  political  offence  of  but  slight  importance  "  said 
the  commissary. 

"  Ah,  this  is  too  much,  —  all  comes  upon  me  at  once ! " 
said  the  soldier,  falling  on  a  chair  in  a  state  of  utter 
distress,  and  hiding  his  face  with  his  hands. 

After  an  affecting  farewell,  during  which  Franchise 
remained,  m  spite  of  all  her  misery,  firm  to  the  oath  she 
had  made  to  the  Abbe  Dubois,  Dagobert,  who  had  refused 
to  go  and  make  a  deposition  against  his  wife,  was  leaning 
on  a  table  overwhelmed  by  his  extreme  emotion,  and  said  : 

"  Yesterday  I  had  with  me  wife,  son,  my  two  poor 
orphans,  and  now  — I  am  alone  —  alone  !  " 

330 


THE  INTERROGATORY. 

At  the  moment  he  had  uttered  these  words  in  a 
faltering  voice,  a  gentle  and  saddened  tone  behind  him 
said,  timidly : 

"  M.  Dagobert,  I  am  here  ;  and,  if  you  will  permit  me, 
I  will  wait  upon  you,  —  I  will  remain  with  you." 
It  was  La  Mayeux. 


331 


Part  V. 
THE  QUEEN  -  BACCHANAL 


•333 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


THE  MASQUERADING. 

The  morning  after  the  day  on  which  Dagobert's  wife 
had  been  conducted  by  the  commissary  of  police  before 
the  Juge  d' 'Instruction,  a  noisy  and  animated  scene  was 
passing  in  the  Place  du  Chatelet,  in  front  of  a  house  of 
which  the  first  floor  and  ground  floor  were  then  occupied 
by  the  extensive  saloons  of  an  eating-house  which  bore 
the  sign  of  the  Sucking  Calf. 

It  was  the  morning  after  Shrove-Tuesday. 

A  considerable  number  of  masks,  grotesquely  and 
meanly  attired,  were  coming  from  the  balls  of  the 
cabarets  situated  in  the  quarter  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville, 
and  singing  as  they  crossed  the  Place  du  Chatelet ;  but, 
seeing  another  body  of  maskers  coming  towards  the  Quay, 
the  first  groups  stopped  to  listen  to  the  renewed  shouts 
of  mirth  and  joy,  in  the  hope  of  witnessing  one  of  those 
rencontres  of  wit  which  are  larded  with  loose  terms 
and  with  those  fish-fag  gesticulations  which  Yade  has 
illustrated. 

This  mob,  all  of  whom  were  more  or  less  inebriated, 
soon  increased  by  the  arrival  of  many  persons  whose 
occupations  compelled  them  to  traverse  Paris  at  a  very 
early  hour ;  and  it  was  suddenly  concentrated  in  one  of 
the  angles  of  the  square  so  compactly,  that  a  young,  pale, 
deformed  girl,  who  was  crossing  at  this  moment,  was 
entirely  surrounded. 

This  girl  was  the  poor  La  Mayeux,  who  had  risen  with 
daybreak  to  go  out  and  seek  for  some  pieces  of  linen 

335 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


from  the  person  who  employed  her.  We  may  imagine 
the  fears  of  the  poor  workwoman,  who  involuntarily 
stopped  in  the  midst  of  this  crowd  of  revellers.  She 
recollected  the  cruel  scene  of  the  previous  evening ;  but, 
in  spite  of  her  efforts  (alas!  but  weak  ones),  she  could 
not  advance  a  step ;  for  the  band  of  maskers  who  had 
just  arrived,  desirous  to  join  those  who  were  there  previ- 
ously, one  body  came  in  one  direction  and  the  other  in 
another;  and  La  Mayeux,  being  in  the  midst  of  the 
latter,  was  literally  carried  on  by  the  mass  of  the  people, 
and  thrown  amongst  the  group  that  was  nearest  to  the 
house  of  entertainment. 

The  new  masks  were  better  dressed  than  the  others, 
and  belonged  to  that  noisy  class  who  frequent  la  Chau- 
miere,  le  JPrado,  le  Colt/see,  and  those  other  dancing  gar- 
dens, more  or  less  riotous,  generally  filled  by  students, 
shop-girls,  clerks,  sempstresses,  etc. 

This  party,  who  were  quite  ready  to  keep  up  a  fire  of 
jokes  with  the  first  comer,  seemed  to  be  awaiting  im- 
patiently the  arrival  of  some  person  whose  presence  was 
greatly  desired. 

The  following  conversation,  carried  on  between  Pierrots 
and  Pierrettes,  debardeurs  and  debardeuses,  Turks  and 
Sultanas,  and  other  couples,  may  give  some  idea  of  the 
importance  of  the  personages  so  anxiously  waited  for : 

"  The  breakfast  is  ordered  for  seven  o'clock,  the  car- 
riages ought  to  be  here  by  this  time." 

"  Yes  ;  but  the  Queen-Bacchanal  would  lead  off  another 
set  in  the  Prado." 

"  If  I  had  known  that,  I  could  have  remained  to  see 
my  adored  queen." 

"  Gobinet,  if  you  call  her  your  adored  queen,  Fll 
scratch  your  eyes  out !  And  there's  a  pinch  for  you,  as 
earnest." 

"  Celeste,  be  quiet !  You  will  make  black  patches  on 
the  white  satin  skin  which  my  mother  was  kind  enough 
to  adorn  me  with  at  my  birth." 

336 


THE  MASQUERADING. 


«  How  dare  you  call  this  bacchanal  your  adored  queen  ? 
What  am  I,  then,  I  should  like  to  know  ? " 
t   "  You  are  my  adored,  but  not  my  queen ;  for  as  there 
is  but  one  moon  in  the  nights  of  nature,  so  there  is  but 
one  bacchanal  in  the  nights  of  the  Prado." 

you  P'h'         aH  V6rJ  fine'  y°U  ^ood-for-nothing  fellow, 

"Gobinet's  right— the  queen  was  magnificent  last 
evening."  ° 

"  And  in  tip-top  spirits  !  " 

"  I  never  saw  her  more  animated  !  " 

"  And  what  a  dress  !  —  marvellous  '  " 

"  Splendid ! " 

"  Magnificent ! " 

"  Pulverising !  " 

"  Fulminating ! " 

"No  one  but  she  can  invent  such  costume ' " 
"  And  what  a  dance  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  it  was  at  the  same  time  bounding,  undulating 
and  serpentining.  Never  before  was  there  such  a  pas  de 
Bayadere  under  the  canopy  of  heaven  !  " 

"  Gobinet,  give  me  my  shawl  immediately;  you  have 
quite  spoiled  it  by  tying  it  around  your  great  fat  waist.  I 
don  t  see  why  I  should  have  my  best  things  spoiled  for 
nasty  fellows  who  call  other  women  Bayaderes!" 

"Lovely  Celeste,  calm  thy  anger !  I  am  disguised  as 
character"  *     menti°n  BaVaderes,  I'm  quite  in 

«  Your  Celeste  is  like  the  rest  of  the  women,  Gobinet, 
she  s  jealous  of  the  Queen-Bacchanal." 

^  jea|0us!T  Well,  really!  If  I  WOuld  be  as 
bold  as  she  perhaps  I  might  be  as  much  talked  about 
Alter  all,  what  makes  her  reputation?  Why,  because 
she  has  a  nickname." 

«  Well,  in  that  respect  you  have  nothing  to  envv  her 
tor ;  your  name  is  Celeste  —  heavenly  !  " 

"  You  know>  Gobinet,  that  Celeste  is  my  real  name." 

337 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


"  Yes ;  but  when  one  looks  at  you,  it  seems  as  if  it  were 
a  nickname." 

"  Sir,  I'll  give  you  something  to  make  you  remember 
it !    I'll  add  that  to  your  account.'' 

"  And  Oscar  will  help  you  to  add  it  up  —  won't  he  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  and  you  shall  see  the  total.  I  will  put 
down  the  one  and  retain  the  other,  and  that  other  shall 
not  be  you  !  " 

"  Celeste,  you  pain  me.  I  meant  to  say  that  your 
angelic  name  is  not  in  unison  with  your  delicious  little 
face,  which  has  that  air  of  sly  mischief  wholly  different 
from  the  Queen-Bacchanal." 

"  Oh,  yes,  —  coax  me  now,  will  you,  you  wretch  !  " 

44  I  swear  to  you,  by  the  detested  head  of  my  landlord, 
that  if  you  liked  you  could  assume  as  much  front  as  the 
Queen-Bacchanal,  which  is  not  saying  much ! " 

"  The  truth  is,  that  the  Bacchanal  has  front  enough, 
and  to  spare." 

"  To  say  nothing  of  the  way  in  which  she  fascinates 
the  municipal  guard." 

44  And  magnetises  the  sergens  de  ville" 

"  It  is  in  vain  they  try  to  be  angry ;  she  always  ends 
by  making  them  laugh." 

44  And  they  all  call  her  4  My  Queen ! '  " 

"  Last  night  she  charmed  one  of  the  municipals,  a 
gentleman  who  was  as  modest  as  a  new-blown  rose,  and 
whose  sense  of  propriety  had  been  gendarmised  (gendar- 
mised  —  what  a  nice  word  that  would  have  been  before 
the  glorious  days ! )  —  I  say  that  the  modesty  of  the 
municipal  had  been  gendarmised  whilst  the  queen  was 
dancing  her  famous  pas  of  the  4  storm-blown  tulip '  —  la 
tulipe  orageuse." 

u  What  a  contre-danse !  Couche-tout-Nud  and  the 
Queen-Bacchanal  having  opposite  them  Rose-Pompon 
and  Nini-Moulin ! " 

"  And  all  four  displaying  tulips,  each  more  4  full-blown  ' 
than  the  other  !  " 

338 


THE  MASQUERADING. 


"By  the  way,  is  it  true  what  they  say  of  Nini- 
Moulin  ?" 
"  What  ? " 

"  That  he  is  a  literary  man,  who  writes  pamphlets  on 
religion  ? " 

"  Yes,  quite  true ;  I  have  often  seen  him  at  my  em- 
ployer's, where  he  deals  —  a  bad  paymaster,  but  a  rollick- 
ing roysterer." 

"And  he  plays  the  pious,  eh  ? " 

"  Yes,  when  he  chooses,  and  then  he  is  M.  Dumoulin, 
as  stiff  as  your  arm.    He  rolls  his  eyes,  walks  with 
downcast  look,  and  his  toes  turned  in ;  but,  that  over, 
he  rushes  to  the  ball-rooms,  which  he  revels  in,  and  then 
makes  up  for  his  lost  time.    The  women  at  these  <  hops ' 
hence  called  him  Nini-Moulin  ;  and  when  you  add  to  this 
that  he  drinks  like  a  fish,  you  have  the  full-length  portrait 
of  this  reveller.    This  does  not  prevent  him  from  writing 
for  religious  newspapers ;  and  so  the  hypocrites,  whom 
he  manages  infinitely  better  than  he  manages  himself, 
swear  by  him.    You  should  only  see  his  articles  or 
pamphlets  (I  say  see,  you  need  not  read  them).  He 
talks,  in  every  page,  of  the  devil  and  his  horns,  and  the 
undoubted  fryings  which  await  the  impious  and  revolu- 
tionary, of  the  authority  of  bishops,  and  the  power  of 
the  pope,  and  I  don't  know  what  beside.  Nini-Moulin 
the  toper,  only  imagine  !    But  he  gives  them  enough  for 
their  money." 

"The  truth  is  he  is  a  toper,  and  a  deuced  hard- 
headed  chap.  How  he  did  'flare  up'  with  his  avant- 
deux  with  little  Rose-Pompon  in  the  dance  of  the 
tulipe  orageuse  !  " 

"  And  what  a  funny  figure  he  cut  with  his  Roman 
helmet  and  top-boots  !  " 

"  Rose-Pompon  dances  splendaciously,  too,  —  what  a 
poetic  twist  she  has  !  " 

"  The  beau  ideal  of  a  bal  dansante." 

"  Yes ;  but  the  Queen-Bacchanal  is  six  thousand  feet 

339 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


above  the  level  of  a  bal  dansante.    I  can  never  forget 
her  step  last  night  in  the  tulipe" 
"  It  was  adorable." 

"  Enough  to  make  a  man  fall  down  and  worship." 

"  If  I  were  the  father  of  a  family,  I  would  entrust  her 
with  the  education  of  my  sons  !  " 

"It  was  about  that  pas  that  the  municipal,  whose 
modesty  was  so  shocked,  became  angry." 

"  Why,  to  say  the  truth,  the  pas  is  rather  out  of  the 
strict  line  of  propriety." 

"  I  believe  you ;  and  so  M.  Municipal  came  up  to  her 
and  said,  6  I  say,  my  queen,  is  that  step  going  to  end  for 
good  and  all  ? '  6  No,  modest  warrior,'  replied  the  queen, 
6 1  practise  it  once  every  evening,  in  order  that  I  may 
dance  it  perfectly  when  I'm  an  old  woman.  It  is  in 
consequence  of  a  vow  I  made  in  order  that  you  might  be 
promoted  brigadier.' " 

"What  a  droll  girl!" 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  her  liaison  with  Couche-tout- 
Nud  can  last  for  ever." 

"  Because  he  has  been  a  workman  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,  —  that  would  be  a  poor  reason  for  us 
students  and  shop-boys  to  be  proud.  No,  I  am  surprised 
at  her  fidelity  to  him." 

"  Which  has  been  the  case  these  three  or  four  months." 

"  She  is  really  in  love  with  him,  and  he  is  mad  about 
her." 

"  Their  conversation  must  be  a  thing  to  hear." 

"  Sometimes  I  ask  myself  where  Couche-tout-Nud  gets 
the  money  he  spends.  It  seems  that  he  pays  for  all 
to-day,  three  carriages  and  four,  and  the  early  breakfast 
(reveille-matin)  for  twenty  persons,  at  ten  francs  a  head." 

"  They  say  he  has  come  into  some  property  lately.  So 
Nini-Moulin,  who  has  a  fine  nose  for  good  feeds  and  fat 
revels,  has  formed  his  acquaintance  to-night,  —  not  say- 
ing that  he  has  any  dishonourable  designs  on  the  Queen- 
Bacchanal." 

340 


THE  MASQUERADING. 


"He,  he,  that's  a  good  one!    Such  an  ugly  brute ! 
The  women  like  him  for  a  partner  in  a  dance  because 

he  plays  up  such  antics  as  make  everybody  laugh,  

but  that's  all.  Little  Rose-Pompon,  who  is  so  nice  and 
pretty,  has  taken  up  with  him  as  a  cavalier  who  can  in 
no  way  compromise  her  in  the  absence  of  her  student." 

"  Here  come  the  coaches  !  Here  they  are  !  "  said  the 
crowd,  with  one  accord. 

La  Mayeux,  compelled  to  stop  in  the  midst  of  the 
maskers,  had  not  lost  one  word  of  this  conversation,  pain- 
ful as  it  was  to  her,  for  it  concerned  her  sister,  whom 
she  had  not  seen  for  a  long  while.  Not  that  the  Queen- 
Bacchanal  had  a  bad  heart,  but  the  sight  of  the  utter 
misery  of  La  Mayeux,  misery  which  she  had  shared, 
excited  in  this  joyous-hearted  girl  a  burst  of  bitter 
sorrow;  and,  therefore,  she  would  not  any  longer  ex- 
pose herself  to  it,  having  in  vain  pressed  upon  her  sister 
assistance,  which  La  Mayeux  constantly  refused,  knowing 
as  she  did  the  source  from  which  it  was  derived. 

"  The  carriages,  the  carriages  !  " 

The  mob  again  and  again  shouted  with  enthusiasm, 
and  with  such  a  stir,  that  La  Mayeux,  unwilling  as  she 
was,  found  herself  thrust  into  the  front  rank  of  the 
people  pushing  their  way  to  see  the  masqueraders' 
arrival. 

It  was  really  a  curious  spectacle. 

A  man  on  horseback,  disguised  as  a  postilion,  who  wore 
a  blue  coat,  embroidered  with  silver,  an  enormous  tail 
from  which  the  powder  puffed  out  in  volumes,  a  hat 
bedecked  with  a  profusion  of  ribands,  preceded  the  first 
carriage,  cracking  his  whip,  and  calling  out  in  a  stunning 
voice :  ° 

"  Way  there !  Make  way  there  for  the  Queen-Bac- 
chanal and  her  court." 

In  an  open  landau,  drawn  by  four  lean  horses,  mounted 
by  two  old  postilions  dressed  as  devils,  was  piled  a  pyra- 
mid of  men  and  women,  sitting,  standing,  perched  in 

341 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


corners,  in  all  the  most  whimsical,  outre,  ridiculous, 
eccentric  costumes  in  the  world.  They  formed  an  in- 
describable heap  of  bright  colours,  flowers,  feathers,  tin- 
sels, and  spangles.  From  this  mass  of  forms  and  odd 
attires  proceeded  singular  or  good-looking,  pretty  or  ugly 
countenances,  each  animated  by  the  feverish  excitement  of 
tipsy  jollity,  and  all  turned  with  an  expression  of  frantic 
admiration  towards  the  second  carriage,  in  which  was 
the  Queen-Bacchanal,  throned  like  a  sovereign,  whilst 
the  surrounding  multitude  saluted  her  with  cries  and 
shouts  of  — 

"  The  Queen-Bacchanal  for  ever  !  " 

The  second  carriage,  a  landau  like  the  first,  only  con- 
tained the  four  coryphees  of  the  famous  pas  of  the  tulipe 
orageuse,  Nini-Moulin,  Rose-Pompon,  Couche-toiit-Nud, 
and  the  Queen-Bacchanal. 

Dumoulin,  the  religious  writer  who  had  dared  to  con- 
tend with  his  patron,  M.  Rodin,  for  Madame  de  la  Sainte- 
Colombe,  surnamed  Nini-Moulin,  erect  on  the  front  cush- 
ions, presented  a  glorious  study  for  Callot  or  Gavarni, — 
Gavarni,  that  eminent  artist  who  unites  to  the  biting  satire 
and  marvellous  imagination  of  a  first-class  caricaturist 
the  poetry  and  depth  of  Hogarth. 

Nini-Moulin,  who  was  about  thirty-five  years  of  age, 
wore  at  the  back  of  his  head  a  Roman  helmet  made  of 
silvered  paper.  A  voluminous  plume  of  black  feathers, 
in  a  butt  of  red  wood,  surmounted  this  casque,  whose 
graceful  fall  broke  the  otherwise  too  classic  lines  of  this 
headgear. 

Beneath  this  helmet  beamed  forth  as  burly  and  bac- 
chanalian a  face  as  ever  was  empurpled  by  the  fumes 
and  potency  of  generous  wine.  A  projecting  nose, 
whose  original  shape  was  modestly  disguised  beneath 
the  luxuriant  efflorescence  of  grog-blossoms,  tinted  red 
and  violet,  gave  a  droll  effect  to  a  face  that  was  abso- 
lutely beardless ;  and  to  which  a  large  mouth  with  thick 
lips,  the  lower  one  projecting  and  curving  downwards, 

342 


THE  MASQUERADING. 


produced  an  expression  of  surpassing  joviality  to  his 
eyes,  which  were  large,  gray,  and  flat  in  his  head. 

On  seeing  this  reveller,  with  a  paunch  like  Silenus, 
one  asked  how  it  was  that  he  had  not  drowned  in  wine 
a  hundred  fathoms  deep  the  gall,  bile,  venom,  which 
saturated  his  pamphlet  against  the  enemies  of  Ultra- 
montanism,  and  how  his  Catholic  beliefs  could  float 
upwards  in  the  midst  of  his  bacchic  and  choreographic 
excesses. 

This  question  would  have  been  without  solution,  if 
we  did  not  know  that  actors  who  play  the  blackest  and 
most  hateful  parts  are  often  in  private  life  the  best 
fellows  in  the  world. 

The  cold  was  rather  severe,  and  Nini-Moulin  wore  a 
cloak,  which  was  half  open,  and  showed  his  cuirass  of 
scale,  and  his  pantaloons  of  flesh  colour,  which  were 
met  just  beneath  his  calf  by  the  tops  of  his  yellow  boots. 

Bending  forwards  in  the  front  of  the  carriage,  he 
uttered  wild  cries  and  shouts  of  rapture,  intermingled 
with  these  words,  «  Long  live  the  Bacchanal  Queen !  " 
after  which  he  shook  and  turned  an  enormous  rattle 
he  held  in  his  hand.  Couche-tout-Nud,  standing  beside 
Nini-Moulin,  was  waving  a  banner  of  white  silk,  on 
which  was  inscribed,  "Love  and  joy  to  the  Queen- 
Bacchanal." 

^  Couche-tout-Nud  was  about  twenty-five  years  of  age ; 
his  gay  and  intelligent  countenance  was  surrounded  by 
a  fringe  of  chestnut  coloured  curls ;  as  yet  his  features, 
though  worn  with  late  hours  and  excesses,  exhibited  no 
expression  of  low  or  depraved  habits,  but  betrayed  a 
singular  mixture  of  carelessness,  hardihood,  indifference, 
and  folly.  He  was,  in  fact,  the  perfect  type  of  a 
Parisian,  according  to  the  general  acceptation  of  the 
term,  whether  as  applied  to  the  army,  to  the  dweller  at 
home,  or  to  the  sailor,  whether  in  king's  service  or  on 
board  a  merchantman.  The  term,  though  not  exactly 
complimentary,  is  still  far  from  being  used  in  a  reproach- 

343 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


ful  sense  ;  it  is,  in  fact,  an  epithet  combining  both  praise 
and  blame,  censure  and  admiration ;  for  if  the  Parisian 
is  occasionally  idle  and  self-willed,  he  is  also  quick  and 
clever  in  his  calling,  resolute  in  danger,  and  invariably 
a  great  lover  of  mirth  and  jest. 

Couche-tout-Nud,  in  his  dress,  "  came  it,"  as  is  vulgarly 
termed,  "  pretty  strong."  He  wore  a  black  velvet  vest 
with  silver  buttons,  a  scarlet  waistcoat,  broad,  blue- 
striped  pantaloons,  and  a  cashmere  shawl  tied  around 
his  waist,  leaving  the  long  ends  hanging  loose.  A  hat 
covered  with  ribands  and  flowers  completed  this  costume, 
which  well  became  his  easy,  graceful  figure. 

At  the  back  of  the  carriage  were  Rose-Pompon  and 
the  Bacchanal  Queen,  standing  up  on  the  cushions. 

Rose-Pompon  had  been  a  fringe-maker;  she  was 
about  seventeen  years  of  age,  with  the  prettiest  and  most 
mirthful  countenance  imaginable  ;  she  was  coquettishly 
dressed  as  a  dSbardeur ;  a  powdered  wig,  on  the  side  of 
which  was  tastefully  placed  a  smart  little  green  and  red 
cap  with  a  silver  band,  surmounted  her  youthful  counte- 
nance, and  served  admirably  to  set  off  her  bright  black 
eyes  and  round  rosy  cheeks.  Around  her  neck  she  wore 
a  cravat  of  the  same  orange-coloured  silk  as  formed  the 
scarf,  loosely  bound  around  her  waist  and  hanging  down 
in  long  floating  ends ;  her  close-fitting  jacket  and  waist- 
coat of  light  green  velvet,  embroidered  in  silver,  fully 
displayed  the  proportions  of  her  youthful  figure,  whose 
supple  pliancy  was  well  calculated  to  shine  in  the  mazy 
evolutions  of  the  dance  named  la  tulipe  orageuse.  To 
complete  the  whole,  we  shall  merely  observe  that  the 
large  loose  trousers  she  wore,  of  the  same  colour  and 
material  as  the  upper  part  of  her  dress,  were  not  less 
liberal  in  the  display  they  afforded  than  were  the  other 
articles  of  her  attire. 

The  Queen-Bacchanal,  who  was  at  least  a  head  taller 
than  Rose-Pompon,  stood  carelessly  resting  her  hand  on 
the  shoulder  of  her  friend ;  and  well  did  the  sister  of 

344 


THE  MASQUERADING. 


La  Mayeux  deserve  to  be  the  deity  of  the  «  rabble  rout" 
she  thus  by  her  mere  presence  inspired  to  the  wildest 
mirth  and  revelry,  as  well  as  by  the  infatuation  of  her 
own  joyous,  noisy  animation. 

She  was  a  tall,  well-grown  girl,  of  about  twenty  years 
of  age,  slight,  yet  well  proportioned,  with  regular  and 
handsome  features,  and  a  merry,  rollicking  air.  Like 
her  sister,  she  had  magnificent  chestnut  hair  and  large 
blue  eyes;  but,  instead  of  being  gentle  and  timid,  like 
the  young  sempstress,  they  shone  with  untiring  ardour 
in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure;  and  such  was  the  vivacious 
energy  of  this  excitable  being,  that,  although  she  had 
tor  the  last  several  days  and  nights  been  engaged  in  a 
continual  round  of  gaiety,  her  skin  was  as  fair,  her  com- 
plexion as  pure,  and  the  delicate  colouring  of  her  cheek 
as  bright  and  blooming,  as  though  she  had  but  that 
morning  emerged  from  some  quiet,  peaceful  retreat, 
wnere  late  hours  were  unknown. 

Her  dress,  though  singularly  whimsical  and  ridiculous, 
was  well  adapted  to  display  the  perfect  beauty  of  her 
form.  It  consisted  of  a  tight-fitting,  long-waisted  bodice, 
of  gold-coloured  cloth,  trimmed  with  a  profusion  of 
bunches  of  scarlet  ribands,  which  hung  half  way  down 
her  naked  arms;  a  short  petticoat  of  scarlet  velvet, 
ornamented  with  tassels  and  spangles  of  gold,  reached 
midway  down  a  leg  at  once  delicately  yet  powerfully 
formed  displaying  a  well-turned  ankle,  covered  with  an 
embroidered  silk  stocking,  and  feet  wearing  red  morocco 
slippers  with  gilt  heels. 

Not  even  the  most  agile  Andalusian  could  have  pos- 
sessed a  figure  more  supple,  elastic,  yet  powerful,  than 
did  this  wild  and  buoyant  creature,  who  seemed  as 
though  endowed  with  perpetual  motion,  for  continually 
were  her  head  shoulders,  and  body  moving  from  side  to 
side,  as  though  still  following  the  movement  of  some 
favourite  dance,  while,  with  the  tip  of  her  right  foot 
placed  on  the  door  of  the  carriage,  she  seemed  as  though 


345 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


beating  time  to  some  invisible  orchestra;  and  all  this 
was  done  in  the  most  insouciant  manner,  wholly  regard- 
less of  the  admiration  she  excited.  The  Bacchanal  Queen, 
standing  on  the  cushions  of  the  vehicle,  continued  to 
display  her  pretty  foot  in  constant  motion  upon  the 
carriage  door.  A  sort  of  golden  diadem,  the  emblem 
of  her  noisy  royalty,  from  which  hung  a  quantity  of 
small  silver  bells,  encircled  her  forehead ;  her  hair, 
plaited  in  two  thick  braids,  was  taken  off  her  blooming 
countenance  and  twisted  around  the  back  of  her  head ; 
her  right  hand  rested  on  the  shoulder  of  Rose-Pompon, 
while  with  the  other  she  held  an  enormous  bouquet, 
occasionally  saluting  the  crowd  by  bursting  out  into  the 
most  joyous  peals  of  laughter. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  render  a  perfect  description  of 
this  noisy,  animated,  yet  half  wild  group.  A  third  car- 
riage, filled,  like  the  first,  with  a  pyramidical  mass  of 
the  most  grotesque  and  extravagant  masks,  completed  the 
tableau. 

Among  the  rejoicing  crowd,  one  person  alone  beheld 
this  pageantry  with  deep  sadness  and  pain,  and  that  was 
La  Mayeux,  still  fixed  among  the  most  prominent  spec- 
tators, spite  of  her  earnest  efforts  to  escape  from  the 
crowd  which  pressed  her  on. 

Long  while  separated  from  her  sister,  she  saw  her 
again  for  the  first  time  on  the  day  of  this  her  singular 
triumph,  in  the  midst  of  joyous  cries  and  loud  plaudits 
of  her  companions  in  pleasure.  Yet  the  eyes  of  the  poor 
sempstress  were  dimmed  with  tears ;  and,  notwithstand- 
ing the  joy  and  delight  with  which  the  Bacchanal  Queen 
seemed  to  participate  in  the  noisy  mirth  of  all  around 
her,  though  she  seemed  to  revel  in  temporary  luxury, 
and  her  eyes  seemed  bright  with  full  enjoyment,  yet  she, 
the  poor,  half  starved  workwoman,  penniless  and  almost  in 
rags,  who  crept  forth  at  break  of  day  to  seek  the  means 
of  earning  her  daily  bread,  even  by  sacrificing  her  sleep 
and  rest  to  procure  the  scanty  morsel  her  exhausted 

346 


mm 


mmm-m 


_____ 


THE  MASQUERADING. 

frame  required,  —  yet  she  pitied  and  sincerely  grieved 
for  the  radiant  creature  on  whom  so  many  admiring 
eyes  were  turned. 

The  poor  Mayeux  had  forgotten  the  crowd  while 
observing  the  sister  she  so  tenderly  loved,  perhaps 
even  more  so  from  believing  that,  spite  of  appear- 
ances, she  was  more  an  object  for  commiseration  than 
herself ;  and  so  she  stood,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  beauti- 
ful and  joyful  girl,  while  her  pale  and  gentle  features 
expressed  the  most  touching  pity,  mingled  with  the 
deepest  interest  and  most  unfeigned  sorrow. 

All  at  once,  as  the  gay  glances  of  the  Bacchanal 
Queen  surveyed  the  crowd  before  her,  her  eye  caught 
the  sorrowing,  tearful  gaze  of  La  Mayeux. 

"  My  sister ! "  exclaimed  Cephyse  (the  reader  is  al- 
ready aware  such  was  the  name  of  the  Bacchanal 
Queen).  "My  dear  sister!"  and,  light  as  an  opera- 
dancer,  with  one  spring,  the  Bacchanal  Queen  quitted 
her  moving  throne,  which,  fortunately  for  her,  happened 
to  be  stationary  just  at  that  instant,  and,  throwing  her- 
self into  her  sister's  arms,  she  embraced  her  with  the 
most  affectionate  warmth. 

All  this  had  passed  so  rapidly  that  the  companions  of 
the  Bacchanal  Queen,  astonished  at  the  suddenness  of  the 
perilous  leap  she  had  taken,  were  wondering  what  could 
have  caused  it,  while  the  masks  who  had  surrounded 
La  Mayeux  drew  back  in  utter  amazement,  leaving  the 
poor  girl  to  all  the  delight  of  embracing  her  sister 
whose  caresses  she  returned  with  pure  affection,  wholly 
forgetful  of  the  singular  contrast  between  them,  which 
could  not  fail,  ere  long,  to  provoke  the  amusement  and 
jokes  of  the  crowd. 

Cephyse  was  the  first  to  recollect  it,  and,  anxious  to 
spare  her  sister  so  great  a  humiliation,  she  hastily 
returned  to  the  carriage,  saying  : 

"Rose-Pompon,  give  me  my  cloak,  and  you,  Nini- 
Moulm,  open  the  coach-door  as  quick  as  you  can  ! " 

347 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Having  received  the  mantle,  the  Queen-Bacchanal 
quickly  wrapped  it  around  La  Mayeux  before  the  aston- 
ished girl  had  recovered  herself  sufficiently  to  utter  a 
word.    Then,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  she  said,  quickly  : 

"  Come,  come,  dear  sister  ! " 

"  I !  "  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  greatly  alarmed  ;  «  you 
are  not  in  earnest,  surely  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  but  I  am  !  I  must  speak  with  you.  I  will 
obtain  a  private  room,  where  we  shall  be  quite  alone ; 
therefore  make  haste,  my  dearest  sister.  Ho  not  object, 
before  all  these  people,  but  come  at  once  —  pray  do !  " 

The  fear  of  becoming  an  object  for  public  curiosity 
decided  La  Mayeux,  who,  besides  confused  with  her 
adventure,  trembling  and  frightened,  followed  her  sister 
almost  mechanically  to  the  carriage,  the  door  of  which 
had  been  opened  by  Nini-Moulin. 

Concealed  beneath  the  mantle  of  the  Queen  of  the 
Bacchanals,  the  humble  vestments  of  La  Mayeux,  as 
well  as  her  personal  deformity,  escaped  the  notice  of  the 
crowd,  still  occupied  in  wondering  what  all  this  could 
have  meant,  while  the  carriages,  once  more  in  motion, 
proceeded  at  a  rapid  pace  towards  the  Traiteurs,  in 
the  Place  du  Chatelet,  before  whose  door  they  shortly 
stopped. 


348 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


THE  CONTRAST. 

Some  minutes  after  the  meeting  of  La  Mayeux  and 
the  Queen-Bacchanal,  the  two  sisters  were  together  in 
a  private  room  in  the  tavern. 

"  Let  me  kiss  you  again,"  said  Cephyse  to  the  young 
work-girl ;  "  at  least,  now  we  are  alone,  there  is  nothing 
to  fear." 

As  the  Queen-Bacchanal  clasped  La  Mayeux  in  her 
arms,  the  mantle  which  covered  her  sister  fell. 

At  the  sight  of  the  miserable  garments,  which  she  had 
hardly  had  time  to  remark  in  the  Place  du  Ch&telet  in 
the  throng,  Cephyse  wrung  her  hands,  and  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  painful  surprise.  Then  approaching  her 
sister,  that  she  might  contemplate  her  more  closely,  she 
took  between  her  own  plump  hands  the  thin  and  meagre 
palms  of  La  Mayeux,  and  gazed  for  some  minutes  with 
increasing  anguish  at  the  unhappy  creature,  suffering, 
wan,  and  attenuated  by  privation  and  loss  of  rest,  and 
scarcely  covered  by  a  wretched  cotton  gown,  darned 
and  patched  all  over. 

"  Oh,  sister,  to  see  you  thus  !  " 

And  unable  to  utter  another  word,  the  Queen-Bac- 
chanal threw  herself  on  La  Mayeux's  neck  and  burst 
into  tears. 

In  the  midst  of  her  sobs  she  added  : 

"  Pardon  !     Pardon !  " 

"  Why  ?    What  ails  you,  dear  Cephyse  ? "  said  the 

349 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

young  needle  woman,  deeply  moved,  and  gently  disen- 
gaging herself  from  the  embraces  of  her  sister. 
"  Why  should  you  ask  pardon  of  me  ? " 
«  Why  ? "  replied  Cephyse,  lifting  up  her  face  suffused 
with  tears,  and  red  with  confusion.  « Is  it  not  shameful 
of  me  to  be  clothed  in  this  tinsel,  to  waste  so  much 
money  in  follies,  whilst  you  are  clothed  thus,  whilst 
you  are  in  want  of  everything,  whilst,  perhaps,  you  are 
dying  with  misery  and  want  ?  for  I  never  saw  you  look- 
ing so  pale  and  worn  by  fatigue." 

"Oh  do  not  be  uneasy,  sister,  I  am  not  ill.  I  was  up 
rather  late  last  night,  and  that  accounts  for  my  paleness  • 
but  do  not  cry,  pray  don't,  it  makes  me  so  unhappy  " 

The  Queen-Bacchanal  had  just  arrived,  all  radiant,  in 
the  midst  of  the  intoxicated  crowd,  and  yet  it  was  La 
Mayeux  who  was  consoling  her ! 

An  incident  occurred  at  this  moment  which  made  the 
contrast  still  more  striking. 

Joyous  cries  were  suddenly  heard  in  the  neighbouring 
apartment,  and  these  words  were  heard  pronounced  with 
enthusiasm  : 

"The  Queen-Bacchanal  for  ever!  The  Queen-Bac- 
chanal for  ever ! " 

La  Mayeux  started,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  on 
seeing  her  sister,  who,  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands 
seemed  overwhelmed  with  shame. 

"  Cephyse,"  she  said,  « I  entreat  of  you  not  to  distress 
yourseli  so.  You  will  make  me  regret  the  happiness  of 
seeing  you ;  and  it  is  such  a  pleasure  to  me !  It  is  so 
long  since  I  saw  you;  but  what  afflicts  you  so?  Do 
tell  me." 

"You  despise  me,  perhaps  — and  you  are  right,"  said 
the  Queen-Bacchanal,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"  Despise  you  ?    I  —  and  for  what  ?  " 

"  Because  I  lead  the  life  I  do,  instead  of  having  the 
courage  to  support  my  misery  as  you  have." 

The  grief  of  Cephyse  was  so  excessive,  that  La  Mayeux, 
350 





THE  CONTRAST. 


always  kind  and  tender,  desirous  of  consoling  her  sister, 
and  raising  her  in  her  own  estimation,  said,  soothingly : 

«  Why,  in  bearing  up  bravely,  as  you  did  for  a  year, 
my  dear  Cephyse,  you  had  more  merit  and  courage  than 
I  shall  ever  have  in  enduring  all  my  life." 

"  Ah,  sister,  do  not  say  so." 

"  Really,  now,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  "  let  us  see  to 
what  temptations  a  creature  like  me  is  exposed  ? 
Should  I  not  naturally  seek  solitude  and  isolation  just 
as  much  as  you  seek  a  life  of  excitement  and  amuse- 
ment ?  What  wants  has  a  poor  humble  thing  like  me  ? 
—  a  very  little  suffices." 

"  And  that  little,  you  do  not  always  get." 

"  No ;  but  weak  and  ailing  as  I  am,  I  can  endure 
privations  better  than  you  can ;  for,  though  hunger  pro- 
duces in  me  a  sort  of  giddiness,  which  ends  in  extreme 
weakness,  yet  you,  robust  and  lively,  hunger  makes  you 
fierce,  —  almost  maddens  you !  Don't  you  remember 
how  often  I  have  seen  you  suffering  under  these 
painful  attacks  when  in  our  miserable  attic,  after 
work  had  stopped  for  a  while,  we  were  unable  to  get 
even  four  our  francs  a  week,  and  had  nothing  —  actu- 
ally nothing  to  eat,  for  our  pride  prevented  us  from 
applying  to  our  neighbours  ?" 

"  And  you  at  least  have  maintained  this  pride." 

"  And  so  have  you !  Did  you  not  struggle  as  much  as 
it  was  possible  for  human  creature  to  struggle  ?  But 
strength  has  its  limits ;  and  I  know  you  well,  Cephyse, 
and  it  was  before  hunger  that  you  yielded,  —  yes,  before 
bitter  hunger,  and  the  painful  compulsion  of  hard, 
unutterably  hard  work,  which  did  not  even  then  sup- 
ply you  with  the  means  of  obtaining  even  indispensable 
necessaries." 

"  But  I  tell  you,  you  endured  these  privations,  and 
endure  them  still." 

"  But  am  I  to  be  compared  to  you  ?  Here,"  said  La 
Mayeux,  taking  her  sister's  hand,  and  leading  her  before 

351 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

a  glass  placed  over  a  sofa,  « look  at  yourself !  Do  you 
think  that  Providence,  who  formed  you  so  beautiful,  en- 
dowed you  with  lively  and  ardent  blood,  a  disposition 
lull  of  mirth  and  vivacity,  expansion,  and  fond  of  pleas- 
ure, desired  that  your  youth  should  be  spent  in  the  seclu- 
sion of  a  freezing  garret,  without  ever  seeing  the  sun 
nailed  to  your  chair,  clad  in  rags,  and  working  inces- 
santly and  hopelessly.  No,  for  the  Almighty  has  given 
us  other  wants  besides  those  of  eating  and  drinking 
Even  in  our  humble  condition,  does  not  beauty  require 
some  adornment  ?  Does  not  youth  require  space,  and 
pleasures,  and  gaiety  ?  Do  not  all  ages  require  some  relax- 
ation and  rest?  Had  you  gained  a  weekly  sum  suffi- 
cient to  supply  your  hunger  and  allow  you  to  have  a  day 
or  two's  amusement  in  the  week,  after  a  daily  toil  of 
from  twelve  to  fifteen  hours,  to  enable  you  to  procure  the 
modest  and  becoming  toilet  which  your  handsome  face 
has  a  right  to,  you  would  not,  I  know,  have  required 
more  —  you  have  told  me  so  a  hundred  times.  But  you 
have  yielded  to  an  irresistible  necessity,  because  your 
wants  were  greater  than  mine." 

"  That  is  true  "  replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  with  a 
pensive  air;  « if  I  could  but  have  gained  forty  sous  a  day, 
my  life  would  have  been  wholly  different ;  for,  at  the 
beginning,  sister,  I  was  deeply  humiliated  to  live  at 
the  expense  of  any  one." 

«  Thus,  therefore,  my  dear  Cephyse,  you  were  irresist- 
ibly led  on,  or  else  I  should  blame  instead  of  pitying 
you.  You  did  not  choose  your  destiny,  but  submitted  to 
it,  as  I  have  done  to  mine." 

" Poor  sister,"  said  Cephyse,  embracing  La  Mayeux 
tenderly,  « you  so  wretched  yet  encourage  and  console 
me,  whilst  it  ought  to  be  I  who  pity  you." 

"  Comfort  yourself,"  said  La  Mayeux ;  «  God  is  just 
and  good,  and  if  he  has  refused  me  many  advantages, 
he  has  given  me  my  joys  as  well  as  you  yours." 
"  Your  joys  ?  " 

352 


THE  CONTRAST. 


«  Yes,  and  great  ones,  too ;  without  them  life  would 
be  too  heavy,  and  I  should  not  have  the  courage  to 
support  it." 

"I  understand,"  said  Cephyse,  with  emotion,  "you 
find  still  the  way  to  devote  yourself  for  others,  and  that 
soothes  your  own  sorrows." 

"  I  do  all  in  my  power,  although  that  is  but  very  little ; 
but  when  I  succeed,"  added  La  Mayeux,  smiling  faintly, 
"  I  am  as  happy  and  proud  as  a  small  ant,  who,  after  a 
great  deal  of  trouble,  has  brought  one  single  straw  to 
the  common  nest.  But  do  not  let  me  talk  any  more  of 
myself." 

"Yes,  talk  on,  I  pray  of  you;  and,  at  the  risk 
of  making  you  angry,"  replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal, 
timidly,  "I  will  renew  a  proposal  which  you  have 
already  refused.  Jacques 1  has,  I  think,  money  left  — 
we  squander  it  foolishly  —  giving  some  now  and  then  to 
poor  people  whom  we  meet  —  I  beg  of  you  to  let  me 
help  you  —  I  see  your  poor  face,  and  it  is  useless  ^  to 
attempt  to  conceal  from  me  that  you  are  exhausting 
yourself  with  work." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Cephyse,  I  know  your  kind  heart, 
but  I  am  not  in  want  of  anything,  —  the  little  I  earn  is 
enough  for  me." 

"  You  refuse  me,"  said  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  in  a  sor- 
rowful voice, "  because  you  know  that  my  claims  on  this 
money  are  not  honourable.  Be  it  so  —  I  understand 
your  scruple.  At  least,  however,  accept  a  service  from 
Jacques;  he  has  been  a  workman  like  ourselves,  and 
comrades  should  help  one  another.  I  beseech  you, 
accept  of  that,  or  I  shall  think  you  disdain  me." 

"  And  I  shall  think  that  you  despise  me  if  you  persist, 
my  dear  Cephyse,"  said  La  Mayeux,  in  a  tone  at  once  so 
firm,  though  gentle,  that  the  Queen-Bacchanal  saw  that 
all  further  persuasion  would  be  useless. 

i  We  remind  the  reader  that  Couche-tout-Nud  is  named  Jacques  Renne- 
pont,  and  is  one  of  the  descendants  of  the  sister  of  the  Wandering  Jew. 

353 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

^ttisir*  *orrowMi7> and  a  tear  again  r°iied 

"My  refusal  pains  you,"  said  La  Mayeux,  taking  her 
hand.    "I  am  very  sorry;  but  reflect  for  a  moment 
and  you  will  understand  me."  moment, 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  with  bit- 
terness, after  a  moment's  silence,  "you  cannot  accept  of 
help  from  my  lover  —  it  was  an  insult  to  offer  it  There 
are  positions  so  humiliating  that  they  taint  even  the  very 
good  which  one  would  desire  to  do  " 

aawt^il."^        meaU  t0  "°Und  J°U'  W 
"  Oh,  believe  me,"  replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal, «  ^iddy 
and  thoughtless  as  I  am,  there  are  sometimes  moments 
of  reflection  even  m  the  midst  of  my  most  headlong  joys 
t  ortunately  those  moments  are  rare." 
"  And  what  do  you  think  of  then  ? " 
"  Of  the  life  I  lead  — it  is  scarcely  honest;  and  then 
1  resolve  on  asking  Jacques  for  a  small  sum  of  money 
just  enough  to  maintain  me  for  one  year;  and  I  resolve 
then,  on  rejoining  you,  and  gradually  settling  down  to* 
work  again." 

"  The  idea  is  excellent,  why  do  you  not  adopt  it?" 

"  Because  at  the  moment  I  am  about  to  resolve  on  it 
1  question  myself  sincerely,  and  my  courage  fails  me.  I 
xeei  that  I  can  never  resume  the  habits  of  labour,  and 
renounce  a  life  sometimes  rich,  as  now,  sometimes  pre- 
carious, but,  at  least,  free,  idle,  joyous,  careless,  and  a 
thousand  times  preferable  to  that  which  I  should  lead  in 
earning  four  francs  a  week.  Interest  never  guided  me, 
and  I  have  often  refused  to  quit  a  lover  who  was  not 
well  oft  for  one  who  was  rich,  but  whom  I  did  not  like 
1  have  never  asked  anything  for  mvself.  Jacques  has 
expended,  perhaps,  ten  thousand  francs  (4007.)  in  the 
last  three  or  four  months,  and  vet  we  have  only  two 
miserable  rooms  but  half  furnished,  for  we  always  live 
out-of-doors  like  the  birds.    Fortunately,  when  I  first 


354 


THE  CONTRAST. 


loved  him  he  had  nothing  at  all.  I  sold,  for  a  hundred 
francs,  some  trinkets  I  had  given  me,  and  put  that  sum 
in  the  lottery,  and  as  the  good-for-nothing  have  always 
good  luck,  I  got  four  thousand  francs  (160?.).  Jacques 
was  as  gay,  and  giddy,  and  fond  of  amusement  as  I  was, 
and  we  said,  6  We  love  each  other  very  much,  and,  as 
long  as  the  money  lasts,  we  will  enjoy  ourselves ;  when 
we  have  no  more,  one  of  two  things  will  happen, — 
either  we  shall  be  tired  of  one  another,  and  will  then  say 
"adieu,"  or  we  shall  love  each  other  still.  Then,  in 
order  to  remain  with  each  other,  we  must  try  and  obtain 
work ;  if  we  cannot,  and  still  resolve  not  to  part,  why,  a 
bushel  of  charcoal  will  settle  the  business.' " 

"  Heaven  forbid !  "  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  turning  very 
pale. 

"  Oh,  don't  alarm  yourself,  we  have  not  come  to  that 
yet.  We  had  still  something  left,  when  a  man  of  busi- 
ness who  had  paid  me  some  attentions,  but  was  so  ugly 
that  I  did  not  for  a  moment  think  of  his  being  rich, 
knowing  that  I  was  living  with  Jacques,  tried  to  induce 
me  —  But  why  should  I  tire  you  with  these  details  ? 
In  two  words,  he  lent  Jacques  some  money  on  some 
security  connected  with  some  very  doubtful  claims  as  to 
succeeding  to  some  property.  It  is  with  this  money  that 
we  are  amusing  ourselves,  and  as  long  as  it  lasts,  why,  we 
shall  be  merry." 

"  But,  my  dear  Cephyse,  instead  of  spending  this  money 
so  foolishly,  why  not  invest  it  and  marry  Jacques,  since 
you  love  him  ?  " 

«  Why,  in  the  first  place,"  replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal, 
laughingly,  her  gay  and  inconsiderate  character  resuming 
its  ascendency,  "  investing  money  does  not  give  any  pleas- 
ure ;  all  the  amusement  one  has  is  to  look  at  a  little 
scrap  of  paper  which  they  give  you  in  exchange  for  those 
little  pieces  of  gold  which  will  produce  a  thousand  pleas- 
ures. As  to  marrying,  I  certainly  love  Jacques  better 
than  I  ever  loved  anybody ;  yet  I  think  if  I  were  mar- 

355 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


ried  to  him,  all  our  happiness  would  leave  us,  for  as  my 
lover  he  has  nothing  to  reproach  me  with,  but  as  my  hus- 
band he  might  upbraid  me  hereafter,  and  if  my  conduct 
merits  reproaches,  I  prefer  making  them  myself,  because 
I  can  put  bounds  to  them." 

"  Well,  well,  you  are  a  mad  girl ;  but  this  money  will 
not  last  for  ever,  and  when  it  is  gone,  what  will  you 
do  ?" 

"When  it  is  gone?  — ah,  that's  still  to  come.  To- 
morrow always  appears  to  me  as  if  it  would  not  arrive 
these  hundred  years.  If  we  were  always  obliged  to  be 
repeating  to  ourselves  that  we  must  die  one  day,  life 
would  not  be  worth  having." 

The  conversation  between  Cephyse  and  La  Mayeux 
was  again  interrupted  by  a  frightful  uproar  which  over- 
whelmed even  the  sharp,  shrill  noise  produced  by  the  rat- 
tle of  Nini-Moulin.  To  this  tumult  succeeded  a  chorus 
of  human  voices,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  distinguishable 
one  loud  unanimous  cry  of  "  Queen-Bacchanal !  Queen- 
Bacchanal  ! " 

La  Mayeux  started  at  this  sudden  noise. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  my  court  are  growing  impatient,"  said 
Cephyse,  now  laughing  heartily. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ? "  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  terrified ; 
"  suppose  they  come  here  in  search  of  you  ? " 

"  No,  no ;  never  fear,  —  they  will  not  do  that." 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  will !  Do  you  hear  those  steps  ?  Some 
one  is  coming  along  the  passage  —  they  are  approaching. 
Oh,  dear  sister,  let  me  beseech  you  to  manage  some  way 
for  me  to  go  out  alone  and  unobserved,  without  being 
seen  by  all  this  crowd  of  persons." 

As  the  door  was  opened,  Cephyse  ran  towards  it.  In 
the  corridor  she  beheld  a  deputation  headed  by  Nini- 
Moulin,  still  brandishing  his  formidable  rattle,  Rose- 
Pompon,  and  Couche-tout-Nud. 

"  Come  forth,  Queen-Bacchanal,  or  I  shall  poison 
myself  with  a  glass  of  water !  "  cried  Nini-Moulin. 

356 


THE  CONTRAST. 


"Appear,  Queen-Bacchanal,  or,  in  despair,  I  shall 
publish  my  banns  of  marriage  with  Nini-Moulin  ! " 

"  Return  to  your  anxious  court,  0  Queen-Bacchanal," 
cried  another  voice,  "  lest  it  rise  in  rebellion  and  come 
and  carry  you  back  by  force." 

"  Yes,  yes,  let  us  carry  her  back  by  force  of  arms !  " 
responded  a  loud  chorus  of  voices. 

"  Jacques,  enter  you  only,  though,"  answered  the 
Queen-Bacchanal,  in  reply  to  those  several  pressing 
summonses  ;  then,  addressing  her  court  with  a  majestic 
tone,  she  said : 

"  In  ten  minutes'  time  I  will  rejoin  you,  and  then  we 
will  have  the  <  devil's  delight ! '  " 

"  Bravo  !  Long  live  Queen-Bacchanal !  "  cried  Dumou- 
lin,  shaking  his  rattle  as  he  retired,  followed  by  the 
deputation,  with  the  exception  of  Couche-tout-Nud,  who 
was  admitted  into  the  apartment  of  the  sisters. 

"Jacques,"  said  Cephyse,  "this  is  my  dear,  good 
sister." 

"I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  mademoiselle,"  said 
Jacques,  kindly,  "  and  the  more  so  as  you  will  be  able 
to  give  me  some  news  of  my  comrade  Agricola.  Since 
I  have  become  a  rich  man,  we  have  not  seen  each  other, 
though  I  often  think  of  him,  for  he  was  a  worthy  fellow 
and  an  excellent  companion.  You  live  in  the  same  house 
with  him,  do  you  not  ?    How  is  he  ? " 

"  Unfortunately,  sir,  he  and  his  family  have  met  with 
many  misfortunes,  and  he  is  now  in  prison." 

"  In  prison  !  "  exclaimed  Cephyse. 

"  Agricola  in  prison !  And  wherefore  ? "  inquired 
Couche-tout-Nud . 

"For  a  trifling  offence  of  a  political  nature.  We 
were  in  hopes  of  procuring  his  liberation  by  means  of 
bail." 

"To  be  sure  —  bail  for  five  hundred  francs,"  said 
Couche-tout-Nud.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  am  aware  you  might  do 
that." 

357 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

«  Unhappily,  Sir,  the  person  on  whom  we  relied  for 
assistance  cannot  now  give  us  any  aid  " 

nrPftv  rSJ°U!-I,UnderStand  a11  about  «  without  your 
pretty  little  winks  and  nods.  Poor  fellow!  Why  he 
maintained  his  mother  by  his  labour"  7' 

"  Alas !  yes  sir,  and  his  present  situation  is  the  more 
ant E*Z£L$*"  ^  **  ^  f™  ^ 

"  Here  mademoiselle,"  said  Couche-tout-Nud  inter 
rupting  La  Mayeux  a  second  time,  and  gS  her  a 
purse,  « take  this.  I  have  paid  all  our  expenles  here  in 
advance  ;  here  is  all  that  remains  of  my  riches  You 
wiH  find  m  this  bag  either  twenty  or  tfcKjolea^ 
which  I  cannot  better  employ  than  in  sevriLTSZ^ 
m  distress.    Carry  this  money  to  AgriJa's  f aTher  £ 

"Jacques,  you  are  a  darling!    Give  me  a  Iri™  * 

re  -  K  f  wrbodththe  Qur Bacchana ^peSiiy: 

you  please  "  cri  T  after'  and  whe»ever 

you  please,  cried  Jacques,  joyfully  embracing  the  queen 

Ift  J"***  8n  inStant>  bu'afterlards 
spLt  ngi^  f  n-  Sam\°?e™hi,  if  not  accepted,  be 

restoring  f  L  i  T'  ^hlle  **  afforded  the  means  of 
restonng  a  whole  family  to  peace  and  happiness  and 
further  considering  that  these  five  hundred  francs  'when 

usefuieaJ IZ ^CqUeS'  Probably,  be  most 

usetul  and  beneficial,  determined  upon  availing  herself 

°^ZT;XAOeer  '  Md  ^  — y^S 

Most°tta^CqT 'ThW  g°°d  and  «enerous  y°u  are! 
Most, thankfully  do  I  accept  your  friendly  assistance. 


THE  CONTRAST. 


Agricola's  father  will,  at  least,  through  your  means,  have 
one  great  consolation  in  the  midst  of  the  severe  troubles 
by  which  he  is  surrounded.  Thanks !  A  thousand  times 
thanks !  " 

"There  is  no  occasion  to  thank  me,  mademoiselle; 
those  who  have  money  should  always  consider  it  as 
given  them  as  much  to  serve  and  aid  others  as  to  pro- 
mote their  own  pleasure  and  enjoy ment." 

Here  the  tumultuous  cries  of  the  mutinous  court 
became  loud  and  uproarious,  while  the  rattle  of  Nini- 
Moulin  was  swung  with  an  energy  which  produced  the 
most  discordant  sounds  and  deafening  din. 

"  Come,  Cephyse,"  said  Couche-tout-Nud,  »  you  must 
return  to  them,  or  they  will  break  everything  before 
them  ;  and  remember,"  added  he,  smiling,  "  I  have  left 
myself  nothing  to  pay  the  damage  with.  Excuse  our 
leaving  you,  mademoiselle,  but  you  see  royalty  has  its 
duties." 

Cephyse,  deeply  affected,  extended  her  arms  to  La 
Mayeux,  who  threw  herself  in  them,  sobbing  with 
happiness. 

"  And  when,"  said  she  to  her  sister,  —  "  when  shall  I 
see  you  again  ?  " 

"  Yery  shortly,  though  nothing  is  more  painful  to  me 
than  to  see  you  in  want  which  you  will  not  suffer  me  to 
relieve." 

"You  will  come  and  see  me?  Mind,  you  promise 
me!" 

"I  promise  for  her,  — she  shall,"  said  Jacques;  "we 
will  both  come  and  pay  a  visit  to  you  and  our  old 
acquaintance,  Agricola." 

"  Then  go  to  your  friends,  and  amuse  yourself  with 
a  light  heart,  my  dear  Cephyse ;  for,  through  your  kind 
recommendation,  M.  Jacques  has  rendered  a  whole  family 
happy."  J 

So  saying,  and  after  being  assured  by  Couche-tout-Nud 
that  she  might  safely  descend  the  stairs  without  being 

359 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


seen  by  any  of  his  noisy,  merrymaking  companions,  La 
Mayeux  quickly  slipped  away,  eager  to  solace  the  heart 
of  Dagobert  with  one  piece  of  good  news,  but  desirous, 
first  of  all,  to  repair  to  the  pavilion  formerly  occupied  by 
Adrienne  de  Cardoville  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone. 

The  reader  will  be  informed  hereafter  of  the  cause  of 
this  determination. 

Just  as  the  young  girl  was  quitting  the  Traiteurs, 
three  men,  plainly  but  respectably  dressed,  were  talking 
together  in  a  low  tone,  while  they  were  attentively  watch- 
ing the  Traiteurs  house,  at  the  same  time  consulting 
among  themselves  as  to  some  object  they  had  in  view. 
A  fourth  individual  rapidly  descended  the  stairs  from 
the  Traiteurs,  and  joined  the  party. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  the  three  others,  with  anxiety. 

"  He  is  there." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  it  ? " 

"  Why,  are  there  two  Couche-tout-Nuds  in  the 
world  ? "  replied  the  other.  "  I  tell  you  I  have  just 
seen  him.  He  is  coming  it  pretty  strong,  too.  They 
are  all  safe  for  at  least  three  hours,  I'll  answer  for  it." 

"  Well,  then,  wait  for  me  here,  all  of  you.  Don't 
show  yourselves  more  than  you  can  help.  I'll  go  and 
fetch  our  leader,  and  the  job  is  done." 

Saying  these  words,  one  of  the  men  disappeared  at 
a  quick  pace  in  one  of  the  streets  leading  from  the 
square. 

At  this  instant  the  Queen-Bacchanal  entered  the 
banqueting-chamber,  accompanied  by  Couche-tout-Xud, 
where  she  was  received  with  the  loudest  plaudits  and 
deafening  acclamations. 

"  Now  then,"  cried  Cephyse,  with  a  feverish  excite- 
ment, and  as  though  striving  to  escape  from  her  own 
thoughts,  — "  now,  my  friends,  I  am  for  anything  you 
like,  —  noise,  bustle,  whim,  slap-dash,  —  real  desperate 
fun ! "    Then  extending  her  glass  to  Xini-Moulin,  she 

360 


THE  CONTRAST. 

exclaimed,  vehemently,  "  Wine !  wine !  Fill  to  the 
brim ! " 

"  Long  live  our  queen ! "  shouted  the  whole  party, 
while  loud  and  prolonged  huzzas  burst  forth  in  one 
unanimous  cheer. 


361 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


THE  REVEILLE  -  MATIN. 


tout  Nud  anH  R     p     having  in  front  of  her  Conche. 
S bL       R°se:PomP°n'  and  Nini-Moulin  on  her 
right  hand  pressed  at  the  repast,  which  was  called 
revnlle-maUn  (early  breakfast,  literally  wake  morning) 
and  generously  offered  by  Jacques  to  L  companions  t 

tmPef1?U?g.menandy0Un^girls  seemed  to  have  for- 
gotten the  fatigues  of  a  ball  beginning  at  eleven  o'clock 
at  night  and  ending  at  sk  ^  ./^  -dock 

ulrinl  65'  8!  3°y°US  aS  the?  were  ^oroul  and 

untiring  laughed,  ate,  and  drank  with  a  juvenile  ardour 
worthy  of  Pantagruel,  and  thus,  during  the  early  Jart  of 
the  repast,  they  talked  but  little,  and  nothing  wasTeard 
but  the  noise  of  plates  rattling  and  glasses  jingling. 

iovous6  CbTtenT  0f  the  Queen-Bacchanal  was  less 
jojous,  but  much  more  animated  than  usual.  Her 

etitemeT  S^'  ^  F"  SparMed  ^ 
exc  tement.    She  seemed  determined  to  drown  all  re- 
flection at  any  cost.    Her  conversation  with  her  sister 
occasionally  recurred  to  her,  and  she  sought  to  escape 
from  such  sad  recollections.  P 
Jacques  looked  at  Cephyse  from  time  to  time  with 
passionate  adoration,  for,  owing  to  the  singular  confomT- 
hhn  at ^ ter'mind^d  tastes,  which  existed  between 
him  and  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  their  attachment  had 
much  deeper  and  more  substantial  root  than  are  gener- 
ally found  m  connection  with  such  ephemeral  associa- 

362 


THE  REVEILLE  -  MATIN. 


tions  usually  based  in  mere  pleasure.  Cephyse  and 
Jacques  did  not  themselves  comprehend  all  the  strength 
of  a  love  which,  up  to  this  time,  had  been  surrounded  by 
enjoyments  and  festivities  which  no  events  had  as  yet 
crossed. 

Little  Rose-Pompon,  the  widow  for  the  last  several  days 
of  a  student  who,  in  order  to  end  the  carnival  in  a  befit- 
ting manner,  had  gone  into  the  country  to  endeavour  to 
obtain  some  money  from  his  family,  under  one  or  other 
of  those  fabulous  excuses  which  tradition  preserves  and 
carefully  encourages  in  the  schools  of  law  and  medicine, 
—  Rose-Pompon,  an  example  of  rare  fidelity,  unwilling 
to  compromise  herself,  had  selected  for  her  chaperon  the 
harmless  Nini-Moulin. 

This  worthy,  having  taken  off  his  casque,  showed  a 
bald  head,  surrounded  by  a  border  of  black  hair,  which 
hung  in  curls  some  way  down  the  back  of  his  neck. 
Through  a  bacchic  and  a  very  remarkable  phenomenon, 
in  proportion  as  his  intoxication  gained  upon  him,  a  sort 
of  zone,  as  purple  as  his  expansive  face,  gradually 
appeared  on  his  brow,  and  tinted  the  shining  whiteness 
of  his  head.  Rose-Pompon,  knowing  the  meaning  of 
this  symptom,  pointed  it  out  to  the  company,  and  ex- 
claimed, whilst  she  burst  into  a  loud  fit  of  laughter : 

"  Nini-Moulin,  take  care,  the  tide  of  wine  is  rising 
rapidly  ! " 

"  When  it  reaches  the  top  of  his  head  he  will  be 
drowned,"  added  the  Queen-Bacchanal. 

"  Oh,  queen,  seek  not  to  distract  my  attention  —  I  am 
meditating ! " 

"  Let  us  drink  to  the  success  of  your  Philemon,"  said 
the  Queen-Bacchanal,  turning  to  Rose-Pompon, 

"  And  to  the  6  lump  of  tin '  which  he  hopes  to  draw 
from  his  scaly  brutes  of  relations  to  finish  the  carnival 
with,"  added  Rose-Pompon.  "  Luckily  he  is  regularly 
on  his  mettle." 

"  Rose-Pompon,"  exclaimed  Nini-Moulin,  "  whether 

363 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


you  made  that  pun  purposely  or  not,  come,  my  love,  and 
kiss  me." 

"  Many  thanks ;  but  what  would  my  husband  say  ? " 

"  Philemon  is  not  your  espoused  husband.  It  only 
remains,  therefore,  for  me  the  more  decidedly  to  extend 
my  arms  to  you,  oh,  Rose-Pompon  ! " 

"  I  can't  say  anything  about  that,  but  you  are  too 
ugly." 

"  That's  good  reasoning  ;  so  I  will  drink  to  the  health 
of  Philemon's  endeavours.  Let  us  offer  up  our  vows 
for  the  success  of  his  <  tin '  adventure." 

«  Willingly,"  said  Rose-Pompon.  "  To  the  health  of 
that  important  article  in  the  items  of  a  student's  exist- 
ence !  " 

"  And  also  to  the  means  by  which  they  consume  it," 
added  Dumoulin. 

The  toast  was  drunk  in  bumpers,  and  with  unanimous 
applause. 

"  With  the  permission  of  her  majesty  and  her  court," 
said  Dumoulin,  "  I  propose  a  toast,  the  success  of  which 
interests  me,  and  has  some  analogous  resemblance  to  the 
<  tin '  quest  of  Philemon.  I  have  an  idea  that  the  toast 
will  bring  me  good  luck." 

"  Let  us  have  it." 

"  Well,  then,  success  to  my  marriage !  "  said  Dumou- 
lin, rising. 

These  words  produced  one  universal  shout,  bursts  of 
laughter,  and  great  applause,  and  stamping  with  the 
feet.  Nini-Moulin  shouted  and  stamped  louder  than 
anybody  else,  opening  wide  his  enormous  mouth,  and 
adding  to  the  astounding  din  the  harsh  sound  of  his 
rattle,  which  he  took  from  under  the  chair  where  he  had 
placed  it. 

When  the  storm  had  somewhat  abated,  the  Queen- 
Bacchanal  rose  and  said : 

"  I  drink  to  the  health  of  the  bride,  Madame  Nini- 
Moulin  ! " 


364 


THE  REVEILLE -MATIN. 


"Oh,  queen,  your  kindness  touches  me  so  sensibly, 
that  I  must  ask  you  to  read,  in  the  inmost  depths  of  my 
heart,  the  name  of  my  future  spouse,"  cried  Dumoulm. 
«  She  is  called  Madame  the  Widow,  Honoree-Modeste- 
Messalina-Angele  de  la  Sainte-Colombe." 

"  Bravo !  bravo !  " 

«  She  is  sixty  years  of  age,  and  has  more  thousands 
of  francs  a  year  than  she  has  hairs  in  her  gray  mous- 
taches and  wrinkles  in  her  visage ;  her  plumpness  is  of 
such  an  extent  that  one  of  her  gowns  would  serve  as  a 
tent  for  the  honourable  company  here  assembled.  I  hope, 
then,  to  present  to  you  my  future  wife  on  Shrove  Tues- 
day, in  the  costume  of  a  shepherdess  who  means  #  to 
devour  her  own  flock.  They  are  desirous  of  converting 
her ;  but  I  will  undertake  the  charge  of  diverting  her, 
and  she  will  prefer  that,  and  you  must  aid  me  in  plung- 
ing her  into  the  most  bacchanalian  and  rollicking  enjoy- 
ments." „ 

«  We  will  plunge  her  into  anything  you  please. 

"  She  is  a  reveller  with  gray  locks,"  sung  Rose-Pompon, 
to  a  well-known  tune. 

"  That  would  have  its  effect  with  the  sergens-de-ville. 

«  We  should  say  respect  the  lady ;  perhaps  your  own 
mother  may  be  as  old  some  day." 

Suddenly  the  Queen-Bacchanal  rose.  Her  counte- 
nance had  a  singular  expression  of  bitter  and  sarcastic 
delight ;  she  held  a  glass  brimful  in  her  hand. 

"  They  say,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  the  cholera  is  ap- 
proaching with  its  seven-leagued  boots,  — I  drink  to  the 
cholera ! " 

And  she  drank. 

In  spite  of  the  general  gaiety,  these  words  made  a 
sinister  impression;  a  sort  of  electric  shudder  ran 
through  the  assembly,  and  every  face  became  suddenly 
serious. 

"  Ah,  Cephyse  !  "  said  Jacques,  in  a  tone  of  reproach. 
"To   the  cholera!"   replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal, 

365 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 
fearlessly  ;  "may  it  spare  those  who  desire  to  live  and 
kill  those  m  company  who  do  not  desire  to  live  separate 

Jacques  and  Cephyse  exchanged  a  rapid  look  which 
escaped  then- joyons  companionsfand  for'ome  timl  he 
Queen-Bacchanal  remained  silent  and  thoughtful 

wi th  hmvat  Way  **  H  different >"  rePiled  Rose-Pompon 
with  a  heedless  air;  "here's  the  cholera,  and  mayXre 
be  none  but  good  fellows  left  on  earth  '  "  7 

In  spite  of  this  variation  the  impression  was  still  nn 
pressively  painful.    Dumoulin,  desirous  of  cut  ii2  short 
this  saddening  subject,  exclaimed  •  g  * 

Wr  *f  6/ead  S°  *°  the  devil'-«>ay  the  living  live 
long!  And  apropos  of  living  and  good  livers  [Til 
ask  you  to  pledge  a  bumper  to  I  health  dear  to  our  mos 
gracious  queen  the  health  of  our  worthy  Amph  tiX 
Unfortunately  I  do  not  know  the  respectable  name  of 
our  dear  host,  inasmuch  as  this  night  has  been  thirst 
of  my  acquaintance  with  him;  he  will,  therefore  pardon 
Zt  Nud°nfinae  f  °P°Sing  th^ealth  of  Couet- 

for  S.~  1  "f me  WhlCh  m  n°  Wi8e  Sh0cks  m7  modesty, 

cLitZtSr  no  other  guise-  *<»>  *»>>  & 

«  Thanks,  my  stout  friend  »  said  Jacques,  gaily.  "  If 
drink?),  and  sure  I  am  that  you  would  answer,  'I 

a  ™;!;riU'  1 7?'  m°,St  r6adily ! "  said  D^oulin,  making 
bowHnX8 ^  h°lding  * 

toutNir^-11^6  Pl6dged  together"  replied  Couche- 
tout-Nud  cordially,  "we  ought  to  know  one  another 
thoroughly ;  my  name  is  Jacques  Rennepont '  " 

Rennepont  !"  exclaimed  Dumoulin,  who  was  struck 
by  the  name,  in  spite  of  his  half  drunkenness;  "your 
name  is  Rennepont?"  J 
"Rennepont,  and  no  mistake!    Does  that  astonish 


366 


THE  REVEILLE  -  MATIN. 


"There  is  a  very  ancient  family  of  that  name,  the 
Counts  de  Rennepont." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  said  Couche-tout-Nud,  laughing. 

"  The  Counts  de  Rennepont  are  also  Dukes  de  Cardo- 
ville,"  added  Dumoulin. 

"  Well,  really,  my  stout  gentleman,  do  I  seem  to  you 
like  one  sprung  from  such  a  family  ?  I,  a  workman,  at 
my  fun  and  frolic  ? " 

"  You  a  workman  !  Why,  we  are  falling  into  the  thou- 
sand and  one  nights,"  exclaimed  Dumoulin,  more  and 
more  surprised.  "  You  give  us  a  Belshazzar's  feast  with 
the  accompaniment  of  carriages  with  four  horses,  and 
you  a  workman  ?  " 

"  Come,  come,  don't  think  that  I  am  a  workman  in 
bank  notes  and  false  coin  !  "  said  Jacques,  laughing. 

"  What  a  supposition,  comrade  !  " 

"  It  is  excusable  when  you  see  the  pace  I  go  ;  but  I 
will  disabuse  your  mind,  I  am  spending  an  inheritance." 

"Eating  and  drinking  some  respectable  old  uncle 
defunct,  no  doubt,"  said  Dumoulin,  smiling. 

"  I  really  do  not  know." 

"  What,  do  not  know  who  or  what  you  are  eating 
and  drinking  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  know  that  my  father  was  a 
ragman  (chiffonier)  P 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Dumoulin,  the  more  out  of  counte- 
nance as  he  was  generally  scrupulous  in  the  choice  of 
his  bottle  companions  ;  but,  his  first  surprise  over,  he 
added,  with  great  amenity,  "  There  are  ragmen  of  great 
merit." 

"  Pardieu  !  You  think  to  laugh  at  me,"  said  Jacques  ; 
"  and  you  are  right ;  my  father  was  a  man  of  great 
merit,  certainly.  He  spoke  Greek  and  Latin  like  a 
professor,  and  always  told  me  that  he  had  not  his  equal 
for  mathematics,  and,  besides,  he  had  travelled  a  great 
deal." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Dumoulin,  whom  his  surprise  so- 

367 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


bered  very  much,  "you  may  still  belong  to  the  family 
of  these  Counts  de  Rennepont." 

"If  so,"  said  Rose-Pompon,  with  a  laugh,  "your 
father  cliiffonerit  as  an  amateur,  and  just  for  the  honour 
of  the  thing." 

"No,  no,  misere  de  Bieu!  It  was  for  his  living,"  re- 
plied Jacques ;  "but  in  his  youth  he  was  in  easy  circum- 
stances. By  what  it  appeared,  or  rather,  by  what  did 
not  appear,  he  had  addressed  himself  to  a  rich  relation  he 
had,  but  the  rich  relation  replied, '  Can't,  really  ! '  Then 
he  wished  to  turn  his  Greek,  Latin,  and  mathematics  to 
account,  —  that  was  impossible.  It  seems  that  then 
Paris  was  chock-full  of  learned  men,  so,  rather  than 
starve,  he  looked  for  his  bread  at  the  end  of  his 
crooked  stick,  and  he  found  it  there,  too,  for  I  ate  of 
it  for  two  years,  when  I  came  to  live  with  him,  after 
the  death  of  an  aunt,  with  whom  I  had  dwelt  in  the 
country." 

"  Your  respectable  father,  then,  was  a  sort  of  philos- 
opher," said  Dumoulin ;  "  but,  unless  he  found  an  inheri- 
tance on  some  dunghill,  I  see  nothing  of  the  inheritance 
you  spoke  of." 

"Hear  the  song  out.  At  the  age  of  twelve  I  was 
apprenticed  at  the  factory  of  M.  Tripeaud ;  two  years 
afterwards  my  father  died  of  an  accident,  leaving  me  the 
furniture  of  our  garret,  a  bed,  a  chair,  a  table,  and 
besides,  in  a  broken  eau  de  cologne  box,  some  papers, 
written,  it  appears,  in  English,  and  a  bronze  metal, 
which,  with  its  chain,  was  worth  about  ten  sous.  He 
had  never  spoken  to  me  about  these  papers,  and,  not 
knowing  that  they  were  good  for  anything,  I  had  kept 
them  at  the  bottom  of  an  old  trunk  instead  of  burning 
them,  and  it  was  well  I  did  so,  for  on  these  papers  I 
have  had  some  money  left  me." 

"  What  a  mercy  from  heaven  !  "  said  Dumoulin.  "  But, 
then,  somebody  knew  that  you  had  them  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  one  of  the  men  who  are  always  on  the  look- 
368 


THE  REVEILLE  -  MATIN. 


out  for  old  debts  came  to  Cephyse,  who  told  me  of  it, 
and,  after  he  had  read  the  papers,  the  man  told  me  that 
the  affair  was  doubtful,  but  he  would  lend  me  ten 
thousand  francs  on  them,  if  I  liked.  Ten  thousand 
francs  (400?.),  that  was  a  treasure,  and  I  accepted  it 
directly." 

"  But  you  must  have  supposed  that  these  old  debts 
must  have  been  of  great  value  ? " 

"  No,  really,  since  my  father,  who  ought  to  have 
known  their  value,  did  not  make  any  use  of  them ;  and 
then,  ten  thousand  francs,  in  good  and  handsome  crowns, 
which  fell  from  one  does  not  know  where,  —  that  was 
a  temptation,  and  I  took  them ;  only  the  agent  made 
me  sign  a  bill  of  guarantee,  —  yes,  that's  it,  guarantee." 

"  And  did  you  sign  it  ? " 

"  Of  course,  yes !  It  was  a  mere  matter  of  form,  as 
the  man  of  business  assured  me,  and  he  spoke  truly, 
since  it  has  been  due  more  than  a  fortnight  without  my 
having  heard  a  syllable  about  it.  I  have  still  about  a 
thousand  francs  remaining  in  the  hands  of  the  agent, 
whom  I  took  as  my  banker,  because  he  furnished  the 
cash.  So  now,  my  boys,  you  see  how  and  why  it  is  I 
sing  all  day  blithe  as  a  lark,  since,  thanks  to  my  ten 
thousand  francs,  I  have  been  enabled  to  quit  my  beggarly 
master,  M.  Tripeaud !  " 

As  Jacques  pronounced  this  name,  his  hitherto  merry, 
joyous  countenance  became  suddenly  overcast,  while 
Cephyse,  no  longer  under  the  influence  of  the  painful 
ideas  which  had  lately  occupied  her  mind,  beheld  with 
considerable  uneasiness  the  change  in  Jacques's  manner, 
well  knowing  the  irritation  any  allusion  to  M.  Tripeaud 
always  produced  throughout  his  whole  nature. 

"  M.  Tripeaud,"  resumed  Couche-tout-Nud,  "  is  just  the 
man  to  render  the  good  bad,  and  the  bad  worse.  People 
say  a  good  master  makes  a  good  horse.  They  ought 
to  say  a  kind  master  makes  a  faithful  servant.  By 
heaven's  mercy,  when  I  think  of  that  fellow ! "  cried 

369 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


Couche-tout-Nud,  striking  his  hand  violently  on  the 
table. 

"Never  mind  him,  Jacques,"  interrupted  the  Bac- 
chanal Queen ;  "let  us  talk  of  something  else.  Come, 
Rose-Pompon,  try  and  say  something  to  make  him 
laugh." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  humour  to  laugh,"  replied  Jacques, 
in  an  abrupt  tone,  and  somewhat  excited  by  the  wine  he 
had  taken ;  "  it  gets  the  better  of  me  whenever  I  think 
of  that  man.  It  regularly  works  me  up  when  I  recollect 
how  he  used  to  treat  his  poor  devils  of  work-people.  I 
think  I  hear  him  bawling  at  them,  4  Here,  you  beggars ! 
You  rascals  of  workmen !  They  pretend  they  have  no 
food  in  their  insides,'  he  would  say;  'well,  then,  fill 
their  bellies  with  bayonet-thrusts, 1  that  will  put  an  end 
to  their  hungry  cravings ! '  And  then  the  poor  children 
in  his  manufactory,  you  should  see  them,  poor  little 
creatures,  working  as  many  hours  as  grown-up  men, 
and  so  wasting  and  dying  by  dozens;  but  what  does 
that  signify  ?  Let  them  die  as  fast  as  they  may,  there 
are  always  plenty  of  others  to  take  their  place.  Not  like 
horses,  which  must  be  bought  and  paid  for  before  they 
can  be  replaced." 

"It  is  pretty  clear  you  are  not  overpartial  to  your 
late  master,"  said  Dumoulin,  more  and  more  surprised 
at  the  gloomy,  thoughtful  air  of  his  Amphitryon,  and, 
greatly  regretting  the  serious  tone  the  conversation  had 
assumed,  he  whispered  a  few  words  in  the  ear  of  the 
Queen-Bacchanal,  who  returned  a  corresponding  sign  of 
intelligence. 

"  Partial !  "  exclaimed  Couche-tout-Nud.  "  Not  I.  I 
hate  him,  and  do  you  know  why?  Because  it  is  as 
much  his  fault  as  mine  that  I  have  become  the  careless 
fellow  I  now  am.  I  don't  say  that  to  excuse  myself,  but 
it  is  the  truth.    When  I  was  a  lively,  rollicking  young 

iThis  revolting  expression  was  actually  made  use  of  during  the  deplor- 
able events  which  occurred  at  Lyons. 

370 


THE  REVEILLE  -  MATIN. 

(■•• 

chap,  and  first  apprenticed  to  him,  I  was  all  heart, 
ardour,  and  energy,  and  so  bent  upon  working  hard  that 
I  used  to  take  my  shirt  off  while  engaged  at  my  daily 
task ;  and  this,  by  the  by,  it  was  that  procured  me  the 
nickname  of  Couche-tout-Nud.    Well,  there  I  toiled, 
sweated,  taxed  my  strength   even   beyond   my  then 
powers.    Not  one  encouraging  word  or  look  did  I  ever 
receive.    I  was  always  the  first  to  commence  work,  and 
the  last  to  leave  off ;  but  no  one  seemed  even  to  notice 
it.    Not  a  word  of  commendation  did  my  industry  and 
diligence  obtain.    One  day  I  received  a  severe  hurt  from 
the  machine  we  employed  in  our  business ;  I  was  carried 
to  a  hospital ;  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  for  me  to  quit 
it,  I  left,  still  weak  and  unfit  to  work  ;  but,  anxious  to  re- 
sume my  labours,  I  was  not  discouraged  even  by  the 
other  workmen,  who  knew  their  master  better  than  I 
did,  and  were  well  aware  how  small  would  be  the  advan- 
tage resulting  from  such  energy  as  mine.    In  vain  did 
they  argue  with  me  on  the  folly  of  overexerting  myself 
as  I  was  doing.    '  What  is  the  lad  thinking,'  cried  they, 
'  to  be  wearing  the  very  flesh  off  his  bones  thus  ?  What 
good  do  you  expect  to  get  by  it  ?    Don't^be  a  simpleton, 
but  do  your  precise  task  of  work,  neither  more  nor  less ; 
you  will  be  just  as  well  off.'    This  was  all  very  well; 
but  it  did  not  deter  me  from  working  like  a  dragon,  till, 
one  day,  a  worthy  old  fellow,  named  ArsSne,  who  had 
been  employed  in  the  manufactory  a  number  of  years, 
and  was  always  considered  a  model  for  all  the  other 
men  on  the  premises,  as  regarded  his  skill  and  excellent 
character  as  a  workman,  —  one  day  poor  old  Arsene  was 
turned  off,  because  his  strength  failed  him  too  rapidly. 
This  was  a  death-blow  to  the  honest  fellow,  who,  besides 
having  an  infirm  wife,  was  well  aware  that,  from  his  ad- 
vanced age,  he  could  not  hope  to  obtain  employment 
elsewhere.    When  the  clerk  of  the  works  brought  him 
his  discharge,  he  could  scarcely  believe  what  he  heard, 
but  burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  weeping.    At  this  instant 

371 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


M.  Tripeaud  chanced  to  pass  by,  and  old  Arsene,  clasp- 
ing his  hands,  besought,  with  affecting  earnestness,  that 
he  might  be  kept  on  at  half  his  usual  wages. 

"'Why,  my  good  man,'  answered  M.  Tripeaud, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  4  do  you  suppose  I  am  going 
to  turn  my  manufactory  into  an  hospital  for  worn-out 
workmen  ?  You  cannot  serve  me  further,  therefore 
out  you  must  go ! ' 

"  '  But,  good  sir,  think  of  the  forty  years  I  have  faith- 
fully worked  in  your  employ.  What  will  become  of  me 
if  you  discharge  me  ?  No  one  will  give  me  work  at  my 
age.    My  poor  wife  and  I  must  starve  ! ' 

"'Well,  what  have  I  to  do  with  that?'  asked  M. 
Tripeaud,  roughly.  Then,  calling  one  of  his  clerks, 
he  said,  'Make  out  what  is  owing  to  this  man,  and 
send  him  about  his  business ! ' 

"Poor  old  ArsSne  was  sent  about  his  business;  but 
what  was  that  business?  Why,  to  purchase  sufficient 
charcoal  to  end  the  existence  and  miseries  of  himself 
and  bedridden  partner.  Both  were  found  next  day 
suffocated  in  their  bed.  Now  I  was  a  lad  at  this  time, 
a  mere  rattling,  rollicking  chap  as  you  would  be  likely 
to  see ;  but  the  history  of  old  Arsene  taught  me  the 
folly  of  toiling  on,  to  the  injury  of  one's  own  health, 
merely  to  benefit  a  master  who  did  not  value  you  a  jot 
the  more,  and  when  your  only  prospect  in  old  age  was 
to  find  some  means  of  shaking  off  the  life  which  was 
merely  a  useless  incumbrance.  These  reflections  for 
ever  extinguished  my  ardour  for  work ;  for,  said  I,  how 
much  better  off  shall  I  be  for  doing  more  than  I  am 
obliged?  Suppose  by  the  fruits  of  my  labour  M.  Tri- 
peaud were  to  amass  heaps  of  gold,  should  I  be  one 
farthing  the  richer?  Thus,  then,  having  no  motive, 
either  of  interest  or  personal  pride  in  working,  I  took 
a  regular  disgust  to  doing  more  than  was  absolutely  nec- 
essary to  obtain  my  wages,  and  became  a  noisy,  careless, 
pleasure-seeking  fellow,  comforting  myself  with  the  idea 

372 


THE  REVEILLE -MATIN. 


that,  when  I  was  tried  with  working  at  all,  I  could  just 
escape  by  the  same  means  which  had  delivered  old  Arsene 
and  his  wife." 

While  Jacques  was  thus  allowing  himself  to  be  carried 
away  by  these  painful  recollections,  the  guests,  instructed 
by  the  pantomimic  gestures  of  Dumoulin  and  the  Queen- 
Bacchanal,  had  tacitly  arranged  their  plans  ;  thus,  there- 
fore, at  a  signal  from  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  who  sprang 
on  the  table,  knocking  over  the  bottles  and  glasses  she 
encountered,  the  whole  party  fose,  uttering  loud  cries, 
to  the  accompaniment  of  Nini-Moulin's  rattle,  for  the 
"tulipe  orageuse!  the  quadrille  of  the  tulipe  orageuse!" 

At  the  sudden  burst  of  these  joyous  demands  for  a 
renewal  of  their  uproarious  mirth,  Jacques  started,  gazed 
around  for  an  instant  with  a  bewildered  and  astonished 
look,  then  pressing  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  as  though 
to  collect  his  ideas  and  banish  the  gloomy  feelings  which 
possessed  him,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  You  are  right,  you  are  right !  Now,  then,  en  avant 
deux!    Let's  be  merry,  and  a  fig  for  care  !  " 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  a  number  of  powerful  arms 
had  conveyed  the  table  to  the  other  end  of  the  large 
saloon  in  which  the  banquet  was  given ;  the  spectators 
placed  themselves  on  chairs,  benches,  and  even  on  the 
window-ledges,  and  commenced  the  duties  of  an  or- 
chestra, by  singing,  in  loud  chorus,  the  well-known  air 
necessary  for  the  dance  about  to  be  executed  by  Couche- 
tout-Nud,  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  Nini-Moulin,  and  Rose- 
Pompon. 

Dumoulin,  confiding  his  rattle  to  one  of  the  guests, 
resumed  his  enormous  plumed  Roman  helmet ;  he  had 
taken  off  his  cloak  at  the  commencement  of  the  banquet, 
so  that  he  now  appeared  in  all  the  splendour  of  his  dis- 
guise, —  his  cuirass  of  shining  scales  of  steel  terminated 
oddly  enough  in  a  petticoat  of  feathers,  similar  to  those 
worn  by  the  savages  who  escorted  the  principal  party 
during  the  procession  of  the  Boeuf  Gras.  Nini-Moulin 

373 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

possessed  a  large  stomach,  and  very  thin  legs,  which  very 
inadequately  filled  the  opening  afforded  by  his  We  turned 
down  boots. 

m  The  sweet  little  Rose-Pompon,  her  military  cap  stuck 
jauntily  at  the  side  of  her  head,  her  two  hands  thrust 
into  the  pockets  of  her  trousers,  and  bending  her  pliant 
little  body  gracefully  from  side  to  side,  advanced  in  the 
avant^  deux,  with  Nini-Moulin,  who,  drawing  himself  all 
of  a  heap,  advanced  by  sudden  springs,  his  left  leg  bent 
under  him,  the  right  leg* extended,  the  toe  in  the  air,  and 
the  heel  sliding  on  the  floor ;  then  he  struck  the  nape  of  his 
neck  with  his  left  hand,  while  by  a  simultaneous  move- 
ment he  briskly  extended  his  right  arm,  as  though  he 
wished  to  sprinkle  powder  in  the  eyes  of  his  opposite 
neighbour. 

This  opening  whim  was  loudly  and  noisily  applauded, 
though  it  formed  only  the  innocent  prelude  to  the  ad- 
mired dance  of  the  tulipe  orageuse,  when  all  at  once 
a  door  opened,  and  one  of  the  waiters,  having  for- a 
minute  or  two  gazed  about  in  search  of  Couche-tout-Nud 
ran  up  to  him,  and  whispered  a  few  words  in  his  ear. 

"Me!"  ejaculated  Jacques,  bursting  into  loud  laugh- 
ter ;«  what  a  joke  !  "  B 

The  waiter  having  added  some  further  words,  a  visible 
uneasmess:took  possession  of  the  features  of  Couche-tout- 
Nud,  who  replied  to  the  waiter's  information  by  saying : 

"  Very  well,  I  will  come  !  "   And  with  these  words  he 
was  proceeding  towards  the  door. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Jacques  ?  "  inquired  the  Queen- 
Bacchanal,  with  surprise. 

"  Go  on  dancing,"  replied  Couche-tout-Nud,  « let  some 
one  take  my  place  for  a  few  minutes  —  I  shall  be  back 
directly  !  "    So  saying,  he  hastily  quitted  the  apartment. 

"  I  dare  say  there  is  something  they  have  omitted  to 
mention  in  the  bill  of  fare,"  observed  Dumoulin ;  "our 
friend  will  soon  return  when  he  has  ordered  it." 

"No  doubt,"  said  Ce-physe.     "Now   then  cavalier 

374 


THE  REVEILLE  -  MATIN. 


seul"  said  she  to  the  person  who  had  advanced  and 
taken  Jacques's  place ;  and  the  dancing  continued  with 
unabated  animation. 

Nini-Moulin  had  just  taken  Rose-Pompon  by  the  right 
hand,  and  the  Queen-Bacchanal  by  the  left,  in  order  to 
balance  between  the  two,  in  doing  which  he  introduced 
the  most  absurd  and  ridiculous  buffoonery,  when  again 
the  door  opened,  and  the  waiter  who  had  called  Jacques 
out  hastily  approached  Cephyse  with  an  air  of  unfeigned 
alarm,  and  spoke  in  her  ear  as  he  had  whispered  in  that 
of  Couche-tout-Nud. 

At  the  words  he  uttered,  the  Queen-Bacchanal  became 
pale  as  death,  she  uttered  a  piercing  cry,  and  rushed  out 
the  room  without  uttering  a  word,  leaving  her  guests  in 
speechless  amazement. 


END  OP  VOLUME  II. 


375 


